


ode

by orphan_account



Category: One Piece
Genre: Coming of Age, Dark, M/M, Slow Build, historical/regency AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:21:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 43,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23795299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Would sane adults do this to a child?” Corazon grabs Law's wrist, pointing to the series of burns and scars running up the boy's skinny arms.“No, but you know I can’t leave. If your brother catches wind of this, I’ll be killed before I make it past the stables.” Law knows what becomes of disobedient children. He’s dissected several of their corpses.“I’ll help you. You’re brilliant, Law. I know you could be saving lives instead of taking them away.”“But some peopledeserveto be killed,” Law whispers.“Well,” the man huffs, “that’s true.”Sniffling, Law asks, “Alright, what’s the plan?”The greatest uprising in history doesn't happen overnight, and whether he likes it or not, Law has the devil's luck. He spends years making connections, working tirelessly to topple the Donquixote empire, and one day at a time, his plans come to fruition.{INCOMPLETE}
Relationships: Monkey D. Luffy/Trafalgar D. Water Law
Comments: 48
Kudos: 71





	1. act i

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a hell of a month and this fic is a mess. i honestly just want to put something out there, yk? i need those creative juices flowin. i dont have a real update schedule planned as of yet, or have any idea when im gonna finish this, but i do have the second chapter mostly done.
> 
> anyways i love law, thanks oda for [that sweet Content](https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nYE5mT9gnG8/XdrpbKKrXmI/AAAAAAAAWcM/5o6hUzWLsxI57pfXcxOW8znOBPNEKGVXgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/016.jpg) in the wano arc

_**ode**_ — _a literary technique derived from the greek word meaning **to sing** ; typically solemn and serious in tone._

* * *

The carriage rattles to a stop, causing both of its riders to wake from their uneasy dozes.

The boy can’t understand what the blonde passenger is discussing with the cabbie because he doesn’t speak their language, but their gestures are tense. Whatever it is, it’s probably not good _._

After a minute or two, they come to some sort of agreement. The long-limbed giant unfurls himself from the bench after paying for the ride, then he holds out a hand for the child to grasp, much to the boy’s surprise. He’s been tossed around most of his life. None of his keepers have ever bothered to _guide_ him to his lodgings.

The boy is led down a beautiful entryway. The pathway is painstakingly paved, smooth stones accentuated by archways covered in roses. Eventually, they come to a stop in front of two large doors, the polished woodwork screaming wealth.

Whatever the man says to him when they arrive is meant to be calming, the boy is sure. His voice is steady and warm even though his hands are trembling. Once the man has said his piece, they make their way into a throne-room, where the man greets someone he looks amazingly similar to.

They exchange pleasantries while the boy listens, determined to keep his posture respectful. It wouldn’t do to ruin his reputation before he’s been given a room.

Thankfully, the visit is brief. Before long, the boy is taken to a quiet hovel with a candle, a bed, and given a ratty old book. He can read the words on the left side, but not the right. “Back tomorrow,” the man says, his _norte_ messy and strange, but he gets his point across.

It’s the first night of the rest of the boy’s life, so he figures he should take his new position in stride, trying his best to hurry up and figure out how to speak their language.

* * *

The boy learns the lay of the land fairly quickly, and he gets a chance to tell the tall man his name a month later. “Trafalgar Law,” he says. “Call before. Call now?”

Although their paths don’t cross often, the awkward blonde has always been kind to him. It’s only right that the boy should defer to the man’s judgement.

“We won’t change your name,” the man says, smiling proudly down at the boy.

“ _You’re too soft for your own good_ ,” Law murmurs, but when the man blinks down at him blankly, he realizes he’d said the words in _norte_. “You. Soft.” He doesn’t have to vocabulary to communicate his thoughts yet, so he air-gestures something like a pillow, slapping a palm against his chest to note that the man has a big heart. “Large. Thank you.”

It’s not a perfect translation, so the man covers his mouth as he laughs, appreciating the boy’s effort. “Nothing to thank me for. It’s the right thing to do.”

After a while, Law gets taken to an area with dozens of other children. They’re generally unruly, but the moment their tutors enter the room, their spines straighten. It’s an education unlike any the boy has received before. Rather than cleaning and sewing, attending to their master’s every whim, they’re learning how to fight, how to maim. The lessons last for hours, until they’re grimy with dirt and sweating bullets.

In a matter of weeks, Law showcases himself as the scrappiest of the lot. He’s lanky and underfed, but he has a mean streak as wide as a river. He’s stubborn enough to keep going until he passes out, which means that he often wins due to sheer tenacity.

The other children try to prattle to him in _linian_ , but he walks away, stumbling off to his room with the supplies Vergo and Diamante give them when they’re finished. Law assumes there’s no point in making friends if their mentors are just training them up to kill each other.

Spring slides into summer, bringing unbearably high temperatures along.

He, along with the two kids he’s come to know as Baby 5 and Buffalo, begin receiving more traditional upbringings. Baby 5 is good at polishing the furniture and minding her manners, but Buffalo refuses to bend. He winds up spending more time outside in the stables as a result, and truthfully, Law is jealous of the designation. He’d vastly prefer to be left alone with the horses.

For the first time in many moons, the boy comes face to face with the master of the manor.

He looms over the three of them with a huge, eerie smile. There’s something about him that rubs Law the wrong way, but he can’t put his finger on it just yet.

A large hand comes to rest against Law’s shoulder. “You,” the master says. “What’s your name?”

“Law,” he replies. “Trafalgar Law.”

“What do your tutors say that you excel in?”

“Combat, sir,” the boy replies, “and the natural sciences.”

For some reason, the combination makes the master laugh. Law doesn’t see what’s so funny. He’s telling the truth. “Any interest in medicine?”

His nose wrinkles at the word. Law had thought himself rather fluent in _linian_ after four months in this country. “ _Medicine_?”

The man leans in far too closely to him, breath practically curling around Law’s head like a snake. “Cutting things up. Seeing what’s inside. Learning how they work. Having the power of life and death in your hands.”

Law shivers—that does sound interesting, but he’s not sure he should say so. The master seems a little unhinged.

Luckily, or unluckily, the blonde man grabs his chin and declares, “I can see it in your eyes. You’re well-suited for it. I oversee your training sessions often, and you’re the only child who bothers properly patching up your wounds. You’ll do.”

The man claps his hands and two guards come to lead Law away by the elbows. The boy scowls the whole time, entirely baffled by this turn of events, but there’s no sense in causing a fuss.

He has to observe his surroundings. It’s the only way he’ll be able to figure out what the hell is going on.

* * *

There’s a new woman, hawkish and sharp-eyed, that comes to teach Law the finer arts of medicine upon Doflamingo’s command. She’s the one who tells him the master’s name, prattling on about manor gossip before getting down to business.

Monet is strict, but she doesn’t change his schedule much. She gives him a tour around the west wing of the building before letting him off the leash, threatening him _to_ _behave_ , _or else_.

Not that she needed to. Law knows who pulls all the strings around here and exactly how powerful they are.

As Law continues creeping up like a weed, shooting up in height and precious little else, his tutors grind him down to the bone, taking his training up several notches until he’s coughing up blood. Monet treats each injury like a lesson, walking him through the surgical procedures while she stitches him up. The days blur as he zips through ages ten and eleven, becoming a surly, dark-skinned twelve-year-old with white patches spreading evenly across his body.

“It’s vitiligo,” Monet tells him one afternoon. “It’s not dangerous, but it is rare. You should document the case.”

Law takes notes on his condition when he can find the time. He’s frequently bought into high-brow meetings these days, his superiors getting him acclimated to the politics of this land, formally introducing him to the lords and ladies they mingle with. History lessons and dissections occur simultaneously, testing Law’s ability to think under pressure, and he pushes through all of it, even when he breaks a finger, or an arm, or, nominally, his left ankle.

Monet and Vergo seem to draw the line with the last incident. After discovering that Law had stayed up all night to save a wandering knight from certain death, propping himself on a crutch and rifling through the man’s organs, they’d sentenced him to two weeks of bedrest. It’s possibly the cruelest punishment they could have doled out for him, because they’ve made quite the workaholic out of the adolescent.

He sneaks out on the third day, feeling absolutely stir crazy, deciding to explore the furthest perimeter of the grounds. Other than the day he’d first arrived, he’s never been beyond the stables.

Law knows the guards’ rotations and routes, sliding past them quietly, hopping on one foot when he needs to, using his crutches in soft patches of grass where he knows that nobody will hear him.

The stone pathways give way to dirt before long, trails hobbled more by horse hooves and carriage wheels than human design. Fields of wheat and corn stretch for miles in front of him, but each swathe of crops is headed off by a neat row of flowers blooming in exotic colors. He leans down to smell them and comes face to face with a small boy, gap-toothed and olive-skinned.

Before Law gets a chance to introduce himself or to catch his breath from the sudden shock, the boy jets off, screaming something unintelligible. Law curses his luck, furious with himself for giving away his position, trying and failing to catch up with the tiny, wiry thing, hoping he can force the boy to be quiet.

He catches the tail end of the boy’s hyper chatter with two other youths. “Didn’t know somebody was stopping by today. He seems cooler than the usual lady.”

A freckled boy and a blonde come to the doorway of the shed with matching scowls, very clearly guarding the little one Law had seen first. The former sneers. “Who’re you?”

His accent is thick, so it takes a minute for Law to process the words. “My name is Trafalgar Law. I’m a staff-hand from the west wing of the manor.”

“What’cha doin’ so far out?” The smallest boy bounces on his heels, trying to push past the barricade the other boys are making in front of him with no luck. The blonde has a hand clasped around his nape.

“I snuck out. I didn’t come here for an inspection or anything. It’s not even harvest season.”

The freckle-faced youth snorts. “Doesn’t keep the other noble dickheads from coming here and talking shit about what we do.”

“Hey,” the blonde boy hisses. “Watch your language. He’s with them.”

For some reason, their words sting. “You’re not in trouble. I _just_ said I came here to get away from the manor.”

The older boys are still wary of him, but their shoulders relax slightly, the moment of weakness allowing the youngest boy to come bounding forward, proudly pointing to his own chest. “I’m Luffy. These are my brothers, Sabo and Ace.”

Ace, the one with the freckles, elbows Luffy in the side. “You brat, you have no sense of self-preservation. What if he goes back up there and tells them to execute you by giving them your name?”

“He’s just a kid like us,” Luffy grouses.

Sabo flicks Luffy in the forehead. “Yeah, but he’s got a lot more power than we do. We worry about you because you don’t have a sense of fear.”

“Hey, Trof, Tref—what was it, again?”

“Trafalgar.”

“Torao,” Luffy proudly declares, looking awfully confident for someone who’s completely butchered another person’s name. “You’re here to play, right?”

The answer to that is _definitely not_ , but given the way Ace and Sabo are glaring at him, daring Law to say something stupid so they’ll have an excuse to kick his ass, he sighs and runs a hand down his face. “Sure, Luffy. Close enough.”

“ _Great_. I’ll show you all the fun places to hang out, then.”

Following them is a tricky process with a broken ankle, but Law manages. Sabo yells for Luffy to slow down, helping Law keep his balance while they cross the creek.

Ace doesn’t seem so easy to please. He has a feral look in his eyes, like a wild animal. Law wonders how, exactly, the other two managed to worm their way inside of his defenses. He supposes that being raised together is the answer, but even that stance lends itself to scrutiny. None of them look particularly alike.

All things considered, it’s a pleasant afternoon. They stop for lunch on the waterbank, Luffy and Ace splashing through the stream with spears to catch fish while Sabo starts up a fire. Law hums, watching them work. “I didn’t know the field hands had so much free time.”

“We work from sunrise to sunset, usually,” Sabo replies, a heavy-hearted smile on his face. “House rules.” Law frowns and the blonde continues talking, striking rocks together against a stack of dry leaves. “Later in the year, when it gets busy, we work from sunrise to sunset. It’s too hot to pull weeds in the daytime right now, so we get to have the afternoons to ourselves.”

“Where are your parents?”

Sabo grows still, the question putting him on edge. “We were adopted together, but our house burned down in the war. The lord of the land needed extra hands when the fighting ended, so he snatched us up for free labor. Our guardian brings us food and new clothes every once in a while, makes sure we’re still alive. Pretty sure we’re the only kids on the grounds, though. Everybody else who lives here works under her, and they’re middle-aged. We’ve never seen anybody close to our age before—until now.”

A small fire comes to life and Sabo feeds it with sticks and more leaves until it flickers up, nearly burning his fingers. He apologizes to Law for having to leave him alone, then he trots off for twenty minutes, returning with an armful of chopped wood.

After their brief talk, Law respectfully refrains from asking them intrusive questions.

It’s a loud afternoon with Luffy and Ace bickering about something stupid, but they bring in a large haul of berries and fish, so there’s no room for Sabo and Law to complain.

As the sun begins to set in the sky, Law realizes that he has to get back to the manor. Monet is due to check on him any minute, or, more likely, Baby 5 has already figured out that Law has gone missing and squealed on him. He doesn’t have much of an appetite, but he never works through dinner. It’s a family affair, and it makes Doflamingo very upset when the children don’t abide by his rules.

“Aww, you’re leaving?” Luffy pouts, but brightens quickly afterwards, something dawning on him. “Well, maybe you can come back tomorrow?”

Law shakes his head, offering the boy a sad smile. “Probably not.” He doesn’t tell the three of them that he’ll likely receive lashings for this transgression. No point in having them get worked up over something they can’t prevent. “I’ll try my best to come back soon.”

“Pinky swear,” Luffy insists, jabbing his finger in Law’s face. Huffing, the older youth interlocks their pinkies, pulling them apart after three swift tugs. “Now it’s a promise, so you have to keep it, or you’ll be forced to swallow a bunch’a needles.”

Law awkwardly gains his balance, assisted by Ace’s strong grip on his elbow. “You weren’t the _worst_ visitor we’ve ever had, but I won’t trust you unless you come back with some kind of amazing food next time.”

Sabo slaps his friend. “Oh, be quiet. We don’t want him to get in trouble.” He sheepishly grins at Law, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Between me and you, I kinda want some too, but don’t force it. Only steal it if you think you can get away with it.”

He huffs out a dry laugh. “Right.”

With that, he departs, doing his best to retrace his steps and sneak back into the west wing undetected. He makes it most of the way before coming face to face with the blonde man who’d brought him to the manor, the one everyone calls _Corazon_. Steeling himself for the crack of a whip or a cane across the face, he clenches his eyes shut.

He’s startled when all he receives is a wimpy slap on the back.

Eyes glistening with unshed tears of frustration, Corazon kneels down and gathers Law in his arms. “You stupid, reckless boy. You’re lucky I went looking for you this morning. I told everyone else that you were too ill for company.” Moved by the man’s concern for him, Law narrowly holds back a sob of his own. “You don’t understand the gravity that comes with being a part of this household, or what my brother wants to use you for, and that’s alright for now. You’re too young. But I need you to know that sneaking out could get you buried alive, so if you’re going to do it again, you need to have a better plan.”

“Why do you care so much if I die?” Law asks. He doesn’t ask why the man is so sure he’s going to disobey the rules in the future despite the warning.

Corazon offers Law a wobbly smile. “Because I’m tired of seeing children be killed for his cause. Isn’t that reason enough?”

The boy nods because he can’t think of anything else to say, abashedly creeping back into his room, thoughts racing.

* * *

From that point on, Law begins to pay attention to the things his tutors are _really_ teaching him to do.

Surgery. Negotiations. Groundbreaking medical research. Discovering the origins of slavery, the psychology behind it. Tracking trade routes. Upper-class arithmetic.

All of the signs point to chancellorship, or perhaps they’re training him to become a traveling doctor-come-merchant, but that doesn’t make any sense to Law. He’s a hired boy. He’s certain that he’ll be stuck in the manor forever. He doesn’t even _dream_ of being entrusted with the secrets of the Donquixote family.

Mostly, he gets his gloves covered in grime, so well-versed in rifling through preserved animal guts at this point that he could do it in his sleep. On one of his lazier afternoons, Vergo and Doflamingo pull him away from sparring with Baby 5 and Buffalo to drag him down to a dark, moody part of the manor he’s never seen before.

Inside, there’s a man dressed in the sharp, deep blues of the neighboring town’s coast guard. Trebol’s been shoving portraits of various uniforms down Law’s throat nonstop the past few days, so pinpointing the origin of the clothing is easy.

The stranger is shivering from the cold and the damp in a cell.

Law’s stomach drops out, pulse skyrocketing.

Vergo hands him a set of clamps. Law has used them before, in dissections. “The boy is ready,” he says, stroking his chin.

Doflamingo’s responding smile is slick and bright. “Excellent. You know, Law, I’ve always had high hopes for you. You’re the quickest one of your lot, and succeeding here will prove that you have what it takes to move up in this world. Do your worst.”

He has a million questions, not the least of which being _why are you doing this?_ But he knows better than to ask, so he swallows down the overwhelming urge to vomit and takes a timid step towards the stranger.

Law gets down on his knees and closes off his heart, prying off a fingernail without flinching. Much to the delight of his master, Law doesn’t stop or back away, and he doesn’t cry—this sort of procedure has become routine by this point, though he’s never performed it on a living creature before.

He’s down to the bleeding bed of the man’s third fingernail before the stranger starts babbling out a stream of questions, desperate to know what he can say to make this torture stop. He hurls insults at his captors, but Law just sits there, amber eyes unfocused, the words flowing in one ear and out of the other.

Doflamingo holds up a hand when he wants Law to keep going, gesturing to his own spit-slick lips to indicate the next area of attack. Pulling the man’s mouth open is an ordeal because he keeps trying to bite Law, but the boy pulls a wooden dowel from out of his coat pocket and stuffs it between the man’s jaws, a trick he learned from pinning down the manor dogs. Pulling out one of his teeth takes a lot more strength than Law is used to using on a person, but he manages it, making the coast guard scream, a fresh wave of tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know, for god’s sake, just _stop it_ ,” the man cries, blinking wide, wet eyes up at the tall men behind Law. “You are vile creatures, forcing a child to do your dirty work.”

Law steps back as Doflamingo kneels down, fingers tightly wrapped around the bloody clamp, limbs shaking. “Law,” Vergo says, “You’ll be moving to the south wing in the morning. Congratulations.”

The words feel like a curse.

* * *

Remembering that the field boys had told him about the schedule changes for the harvest season, Law organizes an evening escape with one of the scullery maids who’s sweet on him. She agrees to keep an eye out for guards attempting to reach him while he’s away, assuring him that she’ll bring breakfast to his room at dawn so he’ll have someone to corroborate his alibi when he sneaks back in.

He desperately needs someplace to breathe, feeling the walls closing in at the manor. Doflamingo seems to be tightening his grip around Law’s throat, grooming him to become something like his right-hand man, or, even more frightening, his next of kin. It’s a horrid thought, and Law hates himself for letting it pass his mind, but he can’t help it. He’s not stupid—all signs point to that being the case.

According to Corazon, Law will be thirteen in October, meaning that he’s coming of age, and Doflamingo will explain a great deal about his plans for the adolescent then. October is only days away, and Law would like nothing _less_ than to know what goes on in that man’s head.

When he stumbles across the familiar shed in the middle of the fields, there aren’t any candles burning inside, or any signs of life, really. For a minute, he worries that he’s lost, that he’s walked into a stranger’s home.

Moments later, a loud boy kicks the door open, rambling about one thing or another. He drops the basket propped against his hip when he sees Law sitting there waving at him. “ _Torao_!” Luffy leaps forward, launching himself into Law’s lap with such gusto that it knocks the breath out of the adolescent. After choking Law in a bear hug for thirty seconds, Luffy scowls. “Hey, you broke your promise. It’s been _ages_ since your last visit. Look at how much I’ve grown.”

Law hums placatingly, patting Luffy on the head. “Yep, I can tell. _So_ tall.”

Luffy huffs. “You don’t have to tease me, ya old fart. I’ll be as big as you one day, you’ll see.”

“Hey, Lu, who’re you talking to?” Ace asks, stopping in place when he gets the door open. “Law?”

“You came back,” Sabo adds, equally baffled.

With all three of them finally gathered in the shed, the blonde lights a candle and Law smugly reaches inside the pouch he’d brought along. Several pastries rest inside, a little messy from his jaunt over the manor walls and out to the fields. “They’re stale because they were yesterday’s leftovers, but I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

Luffy wastes no time in reaching for a treat, shoving one into his mouth with glittering eyes. “It’s sweet and salty.”

“It’s a mincemeat pie,” Law explains, taking a moment to remind Luffy to chew his food properly lest he choke. “It’s a kind of dessert made with beef and apples.”

Before the youngest boy gets a chance to shovel all of them into his chubby cheeks, Ace and Sabo grab their share, humming as they marvel over the new taste and texture in their mouths. Luffy pats his stomach as he licks his fingers clean. “You’re my favorite.”

Ace rolls his eyes, but holds his tongue, refraining from reminding Luffy who feeds him on a regular basis. All in all, it’s a boisterous evening, spent discussing nothing in particular, the four of them simply enjoying each other’s company. Law finds himself so relaxed that he allows Luffy to curl against him and prattle on about his daily adventures, simply basking in the way the words wash over him, lulling him to sleep.

Later, around midnight, Law is pulled from his nap by Ace tapping on his shoulder, jutting a thumb at the door, mouthing that they should take things outside, away from his snoring brothers.

It’s messy business to pry Luffy off of him because he’s a clingy sleeper, but Law manages, joining Ace in a clearing where it’s easy to see the moon. The freckle-faced boy idly tosses a rock up and down, just as incapable of staying still as his younger brother. “I still don’t really trust you, y’know.”

Law grimaces, mouth set in a straight line. “That’s fair.” He only trusts one person from the manor himself, and even that’s up for debate. Lately, Corazon’s been skulking around, keeping strange hours. He can’t help thinking that the man’s up to something.

“But Luffy trusts you,” Ace murmurs. “That counts for something. I know he’s only seven, but he’s got a good eye for these things. He sniffs out the charity cases and underdogs, which means your life is probably shit.”

The older boy laughs. “I have a roof over my head. That’s better than most kids could say in my hometown.” Ace’s tone makes Law curious. “If you’re saying that, it means he found you too, right? I thought the three of you were adopted together.”

Ace clicks his tongue. “Sabo told you?” Law nods. The younger boy sighs. “Yes and no. Sabo and I were gutter rats for a while. Parents left us for dead. Nothin’ or nobody to raise us but the streets. Luffy was four when he walked up to us, gave us some of his precious food because we were skin and bones. Knew this old man who took care of our sort. It was a good gig until the damn war broke out and he died.” He laughs sardonically, noticing the way Law’s expression remains stoic and blank as he talks. “You’re a real hardass, huh? I’m kinda glad. I halfway expected you to feel bad for us and apologize.”

Law shakes his head. “What good would my pity do you? You survived. That’s something to be proud of.”

“Fair enough.” Ace grins. “Anyways, you know the rest. The big guy in the feather coat scooped us up, put us to work. Dadan and her crew help us with the harvesting. Life goes on. We don’t plan on staying here forever, though. None of us are the type to sit still and stay obedient. We train together to get stronger, and one day, we’ll run away. Three different directions, so we’ll be harder to catch.”

The older boy blinks in awe at that. “Kinda risky, isn’t it?” The world’s still on the post-war mend, which is why Doflamingo’s shady business endeavors have been so successful. “Wouldn’t it be safer to stick together?”

“But it wouldn’t be as much fun,” Ace replies, and the flat declaration makes Law burst out laughing.

Law leans back in the grass, a morose smile still lingering on his lips. “What do you want to do? When you leave.”

“I’m gonna start the world’s biggest gang,” the other boy says. Law snorts. “It’s not funny. If you think that’s nuts, Sabo wants to become a politician or something, change the way the government runs. Luffy wants to make friends of every single nationality and eat meat in every city or something. Kinda free-spirited, that kid, but his heart’s in the right place.”

“You’re all a little crazy,” Law says. “But it’s a good crazy. You have dreams. It’s nice.”

“What about you?”

He quirks an eyebrow. “What _about_ me?”

Ace scoots over, elbowing Law in the side with a toothy grin. “What would you do if you could leave this place?”

Law closes his eyes, exhaling slowly as he stares up at the stars. “I dunno. To tell you the truth, I never thought I’d live this long.”

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna stick around here and be a manor dog forever.”

“Hell no,” Law snaps, jaw tightening. “You don’t know how they are, though. I couldn’t just run away from here on a whim. Where would I go?”

“Anywhere you want,” Ace replies, cocking a hand on his hip.

Law’s struck silent by that, absently staring into the distance until Ace starts to yawn. He encourages the older boy to join him back at the shed for another couple hours of sleep, but Law refuses. He’s too alert to fall asleep now, so he might as well head back to his room.

The scullery maid jerks awake as he slinks back in through the window. He thanks her for service with a peck on the hand, watching her tiptoe back to the west wing.

The words _anywhere you want_ echo in Law’s head as he spends the rest of the night tossing and turning.

* * *

Corazon pulls Law into a desolate hallway in the south wing two days before the boy’s birthday. Hissing in pain, the adolescent looks up to the tall blonde with a scowl. “What’re you doing?”

“Listen to me, Law,” Corazon says, hands trembling on Law’s shoulders. “You’re in danger.”

“The hell are you talking about—” Law balks as the man digs his fingers in harder, trying to pry the bruising digits off of him. “Would you _let go_ of me?”

“I figured out what my brother is up to,” the blonde murmurs. Law reaches for the small knife he keeps in his back pocket, courtesy of Monet’s frequent warnings to stay armed. _You never know when you’re going to wind up in a tricky situation, so it’s always best to be prepared_. When the man sees the blade inching up towards his chest, Law ready to go for the kill, he gulps, drawing in a steadying breath. “Have you heard of a kingdom called Dressrosa?”

Amber eyes flick back and forth rapidly as he reads Corazon’s expression. “Yes. It’s three weeks travel from here across the sea.”

“It’s been falling apart, post-war power struggles causing people to doubt the king,” Corazon explains, watching as the boy’s arm slowly lowers. “My brother plans to go there and overthrow him, to instill his own puppet government, and incite a revolution. In the midst of the fighting, he’ll swoop in and make all their resources his own.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Law scowls. “And what’s this got to do with me?”

“He plans to make you one of his officers, and he may even try to marry you to the current king’s daughter to win the people over. Your position would eventually result in you ordering for the deaths of thousands of people—he plans to wipe the city off of the earth once he’s bled them dry of their goods.”

Stunned, but not exactly surprised, Law frowns. “How do you know all of this? Do you have outside contacts?”

“Yes,” Corazon responds, tentatively reaching for Law’s shoulder again. This time, the adolescent doesn’t attempt to shake him off. “That’s why I know that you need to get out of here immediately.”

“Why should I trust you?” Law fumes. “The Donquixote family has been nothing but kind to me.”

“Would sane adults do this to a child?” The man grabs his wrist, pointing to the series of burns and scars running up Law’s skinny arms. “Is this what you really want, Law? To be my brother’s doll? To kill indiscriminately, to lord over innocent people who just want to survive, to take away their freedoms?”

Eyes narrowing in anger, Law shakes his head. “No, but I can’t leave. You _know_ I can’t leave. If he catches wind of this, I’ll be killed before I make it past the stables. He hates being betrayed more than anything else in the world.” Law knows what becomes of disobedient children. He’s dissected several of their corpses.

“I’ll help you.” Corazon bundles Law up in a tight hug, briefly stealing the boy’s breath away. “You’re brilliant, Law. You could be a doctor out there. You could save lives instead of taking them away.”

“Some people deserve to be killed,” Law whispers the words into the man’s chest, refusing to mention that his brother is probably one of those people.

“Well,” the man huffs, “that’s true.”

Holding back an embarrassing sniffle, Law asks, “So, what’s the plan?”

* * *

They’re hushed as they concoct a scheme to break free.

“Call me Cora,” the blonde man says, smiling brightly as he ruffles Law’s hair. Elbowing Cora out of the way, Law grabs a journal off of his stack of medical texts. He makes a messy drawing of the manor, detailing the escape route he typically uses to get off the main grounds.

He gets a little withdrawn when Cora says it’d be smart to lie low at the shed, the midpoint, because it’d be impossible to call a cab without alerting his brother of their whereabouts. It would give them time to catch their breath before creeping into the winding, forested wilderness.

“A family lives there,” Law murmurs. “Field hands. I wouldn’t want to trouble them.”

“Alright,” Cora concedes, “then let’s think of something else.”

They plan to go as far away from the creek as possible. Since it eventually feeds into the sea around Dressrosa, Corazon wants to limit his interactions with the country and his mystery contact until the time is right.

Law packs his bag in the evening, playing his part of the boy excited for his coming-of-age ceremony during the day. Baby 5 and Buffalo tease him relentlessly about his awkward growth spurt. He snaps at them even though his stomach is twisted in knots, hoping his voice sounds as poisonous and annoyed as always.

It’s easier to sneak out than Law expects, even though Cora trips over his own damn feet every step of the way. The guards are sloppy because they’re not expecting someone to _exit_ the premises—they’re keeping an eye out for intruders.

Thirty harrowing minutes pass before they reach the fields. Law spends perhaps too long a time drinking in the sight of the beautiful flowers and rolling hills, because he hears a distant hum of voices. When he turns around, there’s someone from the guard rotation with a torch in their hands on the horizon, curious about their oddly-tall silhouettes. He jerks on Cora’s wrist, shushing the man when he sputters, asking what’s wrong.

He commands the blonde to get down on his chest, crawling through the dirt at a snail’s pace. Doing so keeps the guards from inspecting things too closely, and thanks to Law’s quick thinking, they receive another hour of peace. The moon is high in the sky by the time they reach the edge of the forest, where Cora pulls out a canteen for both of them to sip from while they take a quick break.

Law nearly spits out his mouthful of water when he sees who’s perched on a rock nearby. Cora’s curious about Law’s odd behavior yet again, but the adolescent holds up his hand, gesturing for the man to hold his tongue. “Luffy?”

The younger boy turns around with a bright smile, but Law puts a finger to his lips, silently begging for him not to scream in delight. His luck holds out, because Luffy pads over casually, clinging to Law’s leg. “ _Torao_. You’re out late, and it hasn’t been long since your last visit. I’m glad you came.”

He ruffles the kid’s hair with a sad look. “Yeah, but I can’t stay. I’m running away.”

Luffy wrinkles his nose. “Again? I’m starting to think they don’t know how to keep you in.”

Law laughs. “I guess that’s true. Now listen. You can’t tell anybody you saw me tonight— _especially_ not your brothers. It’s not that I don’t trust you three, it’s that I don’t trust the bastards from the manor. Do you understand?”

“I’m not good at keeping secrets,” Luffy mumbles, kicking his heels in the dirt.

“Luffy, you _need_ to in order to keep your family safe,” Law insists. He holds out his hand, pinky outstretched. “Promise me.”

Luffy smiles up at him. “You remembered.” The weight of the situation suddenly dawns on the boy and he frowns. “If I break it, I’ll have to swallow needles.”

As they swing their hands together, Law says, “Then don’t. Sounds painful.”

That settled, Law heads back to Cora’s side and throws his bag over his shoulder, holding up a hand. “Bye, Luffy.”

Luffy pouts. “Are you coming back soon?” When Law shakes his head, Luffy’s lower lip wobbles. “Will I ever see you again?”

“Who knows,” Law murmurs. “The world’s a big place.”

“Well, I’m gonna see all of it one day, so there’s always a chance.”

“Yeah,” Law replies, a soft bark of a laugh slipping out of his throat. “There is.”

Luffy watches the two of them run until they’re too far away to see. Cora glances at Law, noting the forlorn look on the boy’s face. The next time they take a break, the blonde opens his cape, gesturing for the boy to curl against his side.

Law doesn’t cry over the separation, over the shock of having everything he knows torn out from under him—he’s much too numb to loss at his point for that, and he’s only the tender age of thirteen. “I’m sorry it had to be this way,” Cora says, reassuringly rubbing Law’s spine. “Happy birthday.”

Law sighs, burying his face between his knees. “ _Happy_ isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	2. act ii

“That ungrateful sniveling little _shit_.” The master of the manor swipes his hand across the desk, knocking off papers, an inkwell, and notable trinkets he’s received as tokens of gratitude—or bribery, rather—from the other nobles of the land.

Vergo adjusts his glasses. “Which one of them, sir?”

“Both of them,” Doflamingo snarls, slamming a ceremonial sword into his desk and easily snapping the wood. Still steaming, he throws himself into a chair. “Regardless of this setback, we need to move forward with our plans. Are any of the other children ready?”

“Baby 5 and Buffalo are well-trained in combat, but they’re unruly. Neither of them are suitable for spy work and subterfuge,” Trebol whines. “Monet says that Sugar and Dellinger have potential, but they're only five, m’lord.”

“Damn my brother to hell.” The surly blonde kicks his heels onto the remnants of his table. “He must have connections to the military out west. I knew I should’ve kept closer tabs on him.” After a pause, he turns to his left. “None of the guards have any clues as to their whereabouts?”

“No, sir,” Diamante chimes in, appropriately disgraced about the lack of professionalism from those under his direct command. “We’re currently interrogating the stable boys to see if they saw anything last night, but we haven’t had any luck.”

He doesn’t tell his superior that some guards thought they’d spotted two suspiciously large animals near the north perimeter of the manor, because if it turns out that’s really all they had seen, Doflamingo will have his head.

Suddenly, a bright burst of laughter spreads across the room and all of the lord’s aides turn to their master. “Bested by a child and a fool. No matter. Vergo,” he says, putting his chin on the back of one hand, a slimy smile spreading across his face. “Contact Caesar. Tell him we have a job for him to do.”

* * *

Drum, the country to the north, is nearly as cold as Flevance, Law’s hometown.

He doesn’t remember much about his family, only vague memories of being hugged by a woman and a man’s soft voice in the background, but he _does_ remember the mountains and the eternally slate-gray sky. He’d nearly died of frostbite and starvation at age five, fending off fellow street urchins diving through dumpsters for scraps of food.

“We’re almost to town,” Cora says as they wade through the deep drifts of snow. He laughs when Law glares up at him, nose runny and cheeks red from the effort of keeping up.

They reach an inn at nightfall, a place run by a kind elderly couple. Both of them are surprised to find that the man and the boy have come here without a horse—they’re easily three weeks away from the nearest city on foot.

Law shudders as they brush snow off of their clothes, recalling what a terrible traveling partner Cora had been. The blonde had obviously been raised with a silver spoon in his mouth. He hadn’t been able set a trap to save his life, and he’d screamed the first night ants had crawled over his shoes.

Between being scared of getting caught or killed in the middle of the night and general _stress_ , Law finds himself unfortunately awake. He tiptoes to the window, planning to jump outside to get some fresh air, but he’s stopped by the force of a hand wrapping around his ankle. Yelping in surprise, Law glances down at Cora’s wary face. “Sneaking out again?”

The boy frowns. “I was gonna come back in an hour.”

“It’s dangerous,” Cora warns him.

“Everywhere’s dangerous now,” he flatly replies. “C’mon, Cora. At least thirty minutes. I hate sitting around doing nothing. I need to blow off some steam.”

With a huff, the man lets go of him and Law exhales in relief. Before Law can turn around and break free, Cora stands up. “I’ll join you. I suppose there’s no harm in keeping up our skills.”

Law raises an eyebrow. “ _Our_ skills? You know how to fight?”

Cora rolls his eyes. “What, you think I got this far with my good lucks alone?”

“No. I thought you were just an idiot.” Cora sputters at that and Law smirks, making his way to the door. “Keep your mouth open like that and you’ll catch flies, y’know.”

“Brat,” the man grouses, taking care to lock the door behind him as they go.

* * *

Robelle is a sleepy town, dependent on the crops from the neighboring cities of Gyasta and Bighorn to keep its people alive. Since it’s too cold to farm, they’ve become proficient tailors and medical experts, with doctors and researchers making up half of the population.

Law doesn’t leave the inn much, only ducking out for his daily training sessions with Cora, but he hungrily wants to sneak into the bustling city hall, joining the citizens in their further education. For now, he satisfies himself with the knowledge that the blonde is a much better sparring partner than he would’ve thought.

That first evening, Cora had wiped the floor with him, only letting Law get in one petty swipe across his calf. The gesture had barely caused the man to flinch, let alone lose his posture, and the adolescent had been wide-eyed with wonder over the blonde’s fluidity. After all, the man normally had two left feet.

Law isn’t sure what they’re supposed to do for money now that they’re wanted criminals, but Cora doesn’t seem concerned. He’d taken plenty of continental cash from his savings, and his unknown contact had assured him that he would never want for anything.

After spending two restless weeks in Robelle, Law gets a case of the shakes. It’s been years since he’s had so much free time, and, though he’s loathe to admit it, he misses the feeling of blood on his hands. When his thoughts start roaming in that direction, he feels furious. Doflamingo had groomed him to be this way. Some of his rotten nature has seeped into Law’s brain.

Noting the way the boy bites his nails down to the quick, trembling with barely-repressed rage, Cora slips out of their room and goes to town, aiming to make some connections. A few days later, right when Law is about to take off with a handful of bills, urging the blacksmith to make him a sword and a bow so he can go hunting, he runs into Cora’s huge body in the doorframe.

The man raises an eyebrow at him, which makes Law guiltily drop the cash. “It’s fine,” Cora assures him. “You deserve to buy things for yourself. I should’ve given you an allowance.”

Cora’s such a soft-hearted pushover that Law can’t help scowling at him. “You can get mad at me. I know stealing from you is stupid. We need the money for food and shit to help us survive.”

“Getting pissed off wouldn’t have stopped you,” Cora drawls. Law stubbornly folds his arms over his chest, refusing to see the hypocrisy in his stance. “Where’d you learn all this language from, anyways?”

 _Your brother’s minions_ is the answer on the tip of Law’s tongue, but even riled up, he realizes the response is inappropriate. “Around.” Taking a seat on the bed, Law’s amber eyes flash to the book and the bag in Cora’s hand. “What’d you get?”

“I got you a new journal,” Cora replies, a big smile on his face, “and a pen.”

“And?”

“ _And_ I found something for both of us to do, since you’re so worried about our livelihood.” He pinches Law’s cheek with a flourish, causing the boy to slap him in retaliation. After grimacing in pain for a moment, Cora drops to his knees, showing off the goods he’d purchased. “I’m gonna be a pierrot. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“Not particularly,” Law grumbles, earning himself an affectionate hair-ruffle. It’s not a terrible idea. They’d be able to spy on nobles in their parlors while _performing,_ and they’d be hiding in plain sight.

“Well, that’s fine. You’ll have a different job.” Law perks up at that. “I spoke with one of the doctors in town and she agreed to take you on as an apprentice. You’ll be helping her organize her documents, as well as learning as much as she can afford to teach you about medicine. The wages won’t be high, but it’s better than nothing.”

Law stares at him, shocked silent.

Cora coughs. “So. What do you think about that?”

The boy is floored, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re gonna die early, y’know? Nice guys always lose in the end.”

Elbowing Law in the side, Cora laughs. “Don’t say that. If I die, you die. We’re in this together now.”

Unfortunately, Cora’s right, which means Law is going to have to be shrewd enough for the both of them.

* * *

Dr. Kureha is a ruthless mentor.

“No, you fool,” she says, jabbing her own pestle into Law’s mortar, narrowly avoiding the boy’s fingertips with the force. “It says right in the book that you’re not supposed to break this down any further or the herbs could release poisonous liquids. Can’t you read?”

“It’s been a long time since I had to read _norte_ and I’ve never been able to read _leste_ ,” Law mutters, throwing his failed project into the bin with a frown. “Aren’t you supposed to be teaching me all this?”

“I won’t hold your hand. First, you have to learn the basics—what not to do. Then you’ll be allowed to experiment. _After_ that, if you prove that you’re worth my time, I might deign to teach you a thing or two.”

“Damn you,” the boy whispers furiously, scribbling messy half-translations in his notebook.

“I heard that,” the doctor replies, slapping the back of Law’s head for his lack of respect.

Cora has a bit more luck on his end. He performs in the streets for several weeks, teasing Law for showing up to their evening training sessions worse for the wear. He hasn’t earned a fortune by any means, but he’s becoming quite well-known by the citizens of Robelle. Shopkeepers are beginning to solicit his services for attracting attention when travelers roll through, the children gaping at his shows, struck with awe at Cora’s silly tricks.

The two of them trade information with each other in the dead of night, their skin still cool from taking a splash in the river.

Cora explains the way the authorities put out searches in Donquixote territory, compares their task force to the lackadaisical police presence in Drum. Law doesn’t have much to add. He assumes that Doflamingo isn’t actively looking for them, given that the sleepy little village hasn’t changed since they’d arrived.

Mostly, Law tells Cora about the new poisons and ointments he’s discovered on the job. The elderly and the ill seem preoccupied with learning about _his_ past, but he evades them carefully. Kureha doesn’t let the patients get too overbearing. She seems as wary of strangers looking into her business as Law is.

“How long do you plan on staying here?” Law asks, absently swinging his new sword in the middle of their room.

Cora hums. “I have business to attend to, so I have to leave next week, but I’ll come back.”

“Alright,” the adolescent replies. “I’ll start packing.”

The blonde man holds up his hand, shaking his head with a sad smile. “No, Law. You’re not coming with me.”

Amber eyes narrow. Law carefully puts down his weapon. “Why not?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Lysander have agreed to keep an eye on you and Dr. Kureha is trained in combat. Right now, I think it’s safer for you to stay here in Robelle.”

Law leaps forward, tightening his left hand around Cora’s throat. He knows that the man let him take advantage of the situation, which only makes him more furious. “You’re off to do something stupid, I can tell.” Cora manages to bark out a laugh despite his windpipe being half-crushed. The boy releases him after a moment, seething as the blonde gasps for air. “Spying on your brother’s henchmen? Finally reaching out to your _contact_?”

“Sworn to secrecy, I’m afraid. I can’t tell you.”

“We’re in this together,” Law mutters, bony knees painfully digging into Cora’s ribcage. “That’s what you said. Don’t pull that shit with me.”

When the adolescent leans back far enough for Cora to sit up and regain his bearings, the tall man sighs. “It’s reconnaissance, yes. That’s the most I can say. If you don’t hear from me within three weeks, you can assume the worst.”

Law slaps him so hard that Cora’s jaw tightens, wincing in pain. “I won’t, because you’re not going to die. _Right_?”

Cora’s responding laugh is bittersweet. “Right.”

* * *

A thousand acres of land is a monstrosity to comb through, so much so that the hunt for information has become delayed. It’s made worse by the fact that Law and Cora had jumped ship at the busiest time of the year.

Diamante retrains the guards while Trebol organizes search parties to go looking for their turncoat officer. Monet and Vergo begin working on a top-secret project with the newest member of staff, Caesar, who Doflamingo did business with in the past.

In his precious free time, Diamante goes to interview the field hands, feeling guilty about his team’s sloppy observation skills.

Dadan raises hell over his interrogations, defending her people tooth and nail. He suspects that she’s being stubborn because it’s more trouble than it’s worth to train up new staff in the middle of October, letting her taunts roll off of him.

For the master, he’s willing to endure it.

Day after day, Dadan’s people offer no new leads, and he’s on the verge of giving up when he suddenly has a brilliant idea. “Arrange for all of the field hands to gather two days from now,” Diamante says. “Tell them they’ll be handsomely rewarded for their work.”

“And will they be?” The red-haired woman asks, an eyebrow raised. “It’s not yet December—that’s when the master usually arranges for the staff to have their feast.”

“Oh, _yes_ ,” Diamante assures. He’ll see to it that anyone who helped the traitors will be _rewarded_ , indeed.

Two days later, Dadan makes good on her promise.

He doesn’t know who’s responsible for hiring these ruffians to keep the crops, but Diamante is certain that the master doesn’t know about their poor behavior. There are men and women of varying races and creeds among their ranks, but most amusingly, there’s a group of boys on the outskirts, all of them shockingly younger than the rest of the crowd.

The taller two are whispering heatedly, obviously trying to get their third member to be quiet. The small boy reminds Diamante of Baby 5, who loudly trips over herself to prove her loyalty to the family. She’d cried the day she’d found out about Law’s disappearance, believing them to have been good friends up until that moment.

Diamante moves to speak to them, but Dadan holds her arm out in warning. “You leave them boys alone, sir. They ain’t ever bothered nobody.”

Her defense only makes him more suspicious. Law had been kind to the children on the estate. Who could say that he hadn’t managed to sneak out of the south wing and befriend these boys? “I’m sorry, Dadan. They may know something. It’s a matter of the highest priority for the Donquixote family.”

“What’s your game?” She snarls, fists balled at her side.

“Step aside or you’ll be held in contempt,” Diamante replies, coolly disregarding her question.

Glaring at him with the heat of the sun, Dadan steps to the left, allowing the man to pass. Several strides see him face-to-face with the children. He crouches down so he’s at their eye level.

The blonde and the freckled boy look wary of him, almost disgusted. He’s not here for a routine inspection, that much is sure, so they look ready to fight Diamante at the drop of a hat. _Wild, unruly things_ , he thinks. “Have you seen a boy in the fields recently? He’s a little older than you, dark-skinned with white patches scattered about.” He studies their faces, but the adolescents are flint-eyed, unmoved by his question. “We believe he may have hidden in the fields as he was fleeing the premises, and if you can offer any information as to his whereabouts, you’ll receive fabulous treatment up at the manor.”

Silence greets Diamante once again, but the smallest boy seems discomfited by his words. It’s the break he needs— _a lead._

“You there,” Diamante says, grinning in glee. “What’s your name?”

“Don’t talk to him,” the freckled boy says, stepping in to cut the smallest boy off. “Why do you want to know?”

“He seems a bit feverish.” Diamante knows he’s onto something. He can practically smell the fear rolling off of the boy's skin. “If you’re hot, I could arrange for the maids to bring you something to drink. Would you care to join me up at the manor for the evening?”

“He’s not going anywhere with you,” the blonde snaps, defiantly throwing out his arm.

Watching sweat bead down the smallest boy’s face, Diamante reaches out to grab him by force, but he’s halted by someone clutching the back of his shirt. It’s Dadan. “State your purpose, _sir_ , or we’ll be taking our leave.”

“He knows something, you _buffoon_ , can’t you see?” The boy’s eyes are darting around wildly, frantic tears starting to well up. “Tell me, boy—tell me, or I’ll have your head.”

The freckled boy bites Diamante’s hand, making the leader of the guard flinch and yell. “C’mon,” he screams, grabbing the hands of the blonde and the little one, the three of them hurrying into the swathes of wheat out east.

“Guards,” Diamante demands, “ _Seize them_. One of them saw the traitors escape!”

The guards posted at each of the four corners of the plaza hesitate, light armor rattling as Diamante attempts to fight off the woman and her scrappy fellows. He bellows that they’ll be killed as well if they don’t get moving immediately, leading them to scatter. They don’t make it far, cut off by throes of field hands standing in their way.

Similarly, Dadan encourages the boys to flee without looking back, arms wrapped around the officer’s waist. Diamante elbows her in the nose, the blow hard enough to make it bleed, and he barely makes it five feet before a dozen men leap on him to keep him from pursuing the boys.

Bested again, Diamante howls. “Damn you, woman,” he says, kicking her in the gut. “You’ll pay for this.”

Dadan only smiles, blood streaming down her lips and a bruise blooming under her eye. “Fine by me.”

* * *

They have a somber meeting the following morning.

Doflamingo taps his finger against the arm of the chair. “Let’s review, shall we?” His officers all sit up straight, faces stiff. “Three weeks ago, my brother fled with the boy I was training to become my right hand. Yesterday, Diamante found someone who witnessed their escape, only to be overrun by a minor coup that the field hands organized. Today, minutes before this meeting came to order, I discovered that something _very_ important to me has gone missing. Anybody have anything _else_ to add?”

Thick, tense silence falls in the room. After thirty seconds, the master bangs on the table.

“I run one of the _wealthiest_ organizations on this continent and we can’t keep a few ragtag morons under control.”

Shakily, Trebol speaks. “My apologies, sir. In the wake of the war, there hasn’t been time to vet every staffhand we’ve had on board. Your orders were to find those who were cheap and reliable—”

“Did you listen to the first part of my order and ignore the second?”

His advisor whimpers. “I’m sorry, m’lord. It was the best we could do at the time.”

Slightly assuaged, Doflamingo sighs, gaze sweeping to the rest of the officers. “Fine. We’ll be disposing of the old lot and hiring new people starting today. Moving on to the guard.” Diamante flinches. “Similarly, we’ll be culling their numbers and seeing who deserves to stay. Diamante, you’ll be proving yourself as well. Don’t make me regret taking you under my wing.”

“No,” he murmurs, fealty oozing out of his pores. “Of course not, sir. I’ll do everything in my power to surpass my limits and show you that I’ll craft a much worthier team for you.”

“You better, or you’ll be killed along with the rest of them. Now,” Doflamingo says, standing up with a flourish, pushing up his glasses. “I have more important matters to attend to. All of you are aware of this manor’s current shortcomings, which means you all need to do your part to salvage our good name. _Dismissed_.”

“Yes, sir,” the officers reply, saluting the master as he sweeps out of the room.

* * *

There’s a warm breeze rolling in from the shore on Dressrosa. Corazon is terribly overdressed for the weather.

“You’re late,” his contact says, arms folded over a burly chest.

“I told you about everything that happened in my last letter,” Corazon replies. “I got here as fast as I could, sir.”

“No matter.” The dark-haired man turns on his heel, inviting the blonde to join him, holding out a pair of binoculars for him to use. “We’ve been keeping an eye on all his open trade routes, trying to figure out what he’s been pouring so much money into. Turns out there’s some mineral in the old volcanic soil—something he can use for poison gas. There’s something else in the ocean he thinks he can use for human experimentation. In other words, the whole place is a gold mine he can use to further his power. It’s a sitting threat to the continent, but luckily for our target, the people don’t have the technology to do anything with the goods.”

Corazon bites his lip. “Any changes with regards to political alliances?”

“He’s working his way towards those. You cut off his fastest option, since his daughters are around your boy’s age, but he isn’t going to give up that easily.”

“What’s our next move, Admiral?”

“We lie low and wait for him to screw up. Then we send in the dogs.”

Corazon snarls, looking up at his superior officer in shock. “How long is that supposed to take?”

“It’s a covert operation. It’s not supposed to happen overnight.”

Running a hand down his face, the blonde sighs. “Are we even going to break up the drug ring? That was the whole reason I raced over here, you know.”

“I do,” the admiral hums. “You’re practically a father now, so I don’t want you to do anything reckless. If you insist, I suppose I could reach out to Aokiji. He lives a day away from here on horseback. I’d let you two upstarts go in together and take the credit.”

Corazon balks. “Ugh.”

“It’s that or nothing. You’re not going in there by yourself, and I’m sure-as-shit not going to join you. I don’t necessarily like it, but I have to keep my hands clean if we’re going to pull the rug out from under your brother.”

“He’s only going to be harder to catch from here on out,” Corazon says with a frown.

“True, but I can’t stop what I’m doing. The last thing anybody wants is another war, and Doflamingo’s hellbent on starting one. I have to do what it takes to keep the house from burning down.”

“Fine,” the blonde mutters. “Contact Aokiji.”

“You sure you can afford to be away from home that long?”

“Yeah,” he replies easily. “Law’s a good kid. He knows how to take care of himself.”

* * *

Kureha slaps Law’s back hard enough to make him sputter. “You’re not focused.”

Rubbing his spine, the boy scowls. “I didn’t screw anything up.”

“You also didn’t make enough antidote for five people, which is what I told you to do.”

“I was getting to it,” Law grumbles, scuffing his heels against the floor.

“Go restock the shelves,” the doctor orders, handing him a few bills. “And stop by the hall. If you’re not going to be useful here, you might as well learn from your peers.”

Though he rolls his eyes, Law doesn’t complain, shrugging on his coat as he ambles down the streets of Robelle.

As always, the town is quiet. He stops to look in the scantily-decorated shop windows, noting that many people have lots candles in the window now. Coupled with the new addition of little branch wreaths on the doors, Law wonders if there’s some sort of ceremony coming up.

When he gets to the plaza, he’s greeted by Dalton, the sweet mayor of the sleepy town, and the familiar merchants selling winter berries and herbs. Dr. Kureha hadn’t told him to go foraging, so that means no mushrooms, flowers, or leaves today.

Law takes the time to scribble a drawing of a petrified toad in a bag. _Extremely deadly if touched with bare hands_ , the doctor’s guidebook had said. _Research has not been done to see if poison can be extracted and toad innards could be used for therapeutic purposes._

Arms full, the young man makes his way to the hall. Two months ago, when they had first arrived, he hadn’t been allowed in, but a note from the doctor grants him access. It’s everything Law’s hoped it would be.

For the first time all week, he’s distracted from worrying about what Cora is up to on the other side of the sea.

A variety of teenagers and adults are inside debating about the finer points of modern science. Global climate patterns, researching the stars, archaeological research. Most of what they discuss comes back around to medicine, of course, given the town’s heavy population of doctors.

Law drifts from room to room, not allowing himself to spend more than twenty or thirty minutes at each lecture. He jots down important notes, then he zips off, and on his third pass, he bumps into another student.

He’s young. _Around Luffy’s age_ , Law thinks absently, hating himself for the thought. He tries to push the thoughts of the manor out of his mind, refusing to dwell on them. He doesn’t want the guilt of abandoning the other children in Donquixote territory to eat him alive.

“Sorry,” Law says, dipping his head in apology.

“It’s fine,” the boy says, adjusting his hat. He looks up at Law, who’s a strange sight around here—an adolescent with patchy swathes of two skin colors and unfortunately gangly limbs. “Are you sick?”

“No. It’s vitiligo.” When the boy blinks up at him in curiosity, Law explains. “It’s a rare condition where the hair and the skin begin to lose color.”

“But your hair’s so dark,” the stranger marvels. “Could it happen right now?”

Law can’t help chuckling lightly. “Not immediately. It’s a gradual process. I’ve documented the case for the last six months, but there haven’t been any drastic changes. I’m only thirteen, after all.”

“Wow. You’re already so smart.”

Flattered, Law smiles. “You’re not so bad yourself. What’s your name?”

“Chopper.”

“Nice to meet you.” The two of them make idle chatter as they move to the next room, Chopper writing just as diligently as Law. When Law tiptoes out of the room, Chopper waves goodbye, paying rapt attention to the nurse who’s leading the lecture.

Finally getting ready to exit the hall, Law stops dead in his tracks when he sees a familiar face in the distance. He ducks into the closest lecture room, pulse thudding in his ears.

“He’s a nutjob, but he has connections. Your boss wants to strike up a deal with Gecko Moria, doesn’t he?” Law doesn’t recognize the long-haired man speaking, but the stoic person next to him is someone the adolescent will never forget.

“Just find him,” Vergo insists, no-nonsense as always. “We don’t have time to waste in this hick town.”

Law curls up, forcing his shaking hand to draw lines on the paper. He dips behind a lady’s skirt with a profuse apology, hoping against all hope that Vergo doesn’t come in here. He’s not exactly easy to miss.

His luck holds fast—apparently, the one Vergo’s with, a doctor named Caesar, is looking for Dr. Hogback. Once they find him, they coerce him into joining them, researching something state-of-the-art in the neighboring country. They don’t ask questions about a blonde man or a child. “Let’s get out of here,” Caesar says. “I’m not particularly fond of the cold.”

After thirty harrowing minutes, they leave. Law thanks the woman for shielding him, quivering legs taking him to the back of the building. He slides out unnoticed, listening for the sound of a caravan galloping off, hustling through the back alleys. He trips a few times, desperate to get back to the inn where his and Cora’s belongings are. When he arrives, chest heaving, he blurts out that he can’t stay another minute, running to their room to grab his sword and a couple keepsakes.

Later, when he finally makes it to Kureha’s office again, the old woman sees the distress in his eyes, taking pity on him and agreeing to shelter him at her home until Cora returns. She even arranges to have the Lysanders bring the rest of their things over in the morning.

Law doesn’t speak for the rest of the afternoon. He feverishly bottles antidotes and serums for the doctor, impatiently waiting for Cora to send him a letter.

* * *

“This is a terrible idea,” Aokiji drawls, holding out a match for his partner. Corazon doesn’t usually like to smoke on the job, but he needs the tobacco to calm his nerves right now, so he accepts the gesture.

The blonde snorts. “You got a better one?”

“Not particularly.” The two of them let the tendrils waft in the air for several minutes before they load their rifles and pistols. Each gun only allows them one shot and the clips are expensive as hell, so they have to use them wisely. “I just think tearing this place down is a minor step in the process. He’s got prostitution rings, drug cartels, and a thousand nasties crawling around, waiting to do his bidding. Losing it won’t be much more than a slap on the wrist for him.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Corazon snaps, dark eyes hard with determination. “Do you know how many children he keeps in retention? He has his goons kidnap dozens of them from this town, and he uses some of them as his runners. I can’t stand by and let it pass.”

“Alright, alright,” Aokiji says. “I agreed to help you. No need to lose your temper.”

The two of them bust in, guns blazing, shooting the brains out of four or five metal men before they hit resistance. There are bright screams coloring the air, the affluent rich of Dressrosa likely gambling at Pink’s tables.

Pink himself leaps forward to kill the cops that’ve stormed his place, to no avail. They don’t have backup for this operation, so they have to be swift and steady. Corazon and Aokiji didn’t make plans to have a fair fight.

They slip into the basement with no problem, Corazon providing cover while Aokiji picks the locks. The children and women run as fast they can, several of them warding off sword-swipes and stray bullets as the officers give them a chance to get far, far away.

When Corazon tells his partner there are too many enemies closing in, Aokiji drops a homemade stink-bomb on the ground, causing Pink’s men to sputter and cough. Corazon tosses a match on the ground as soon as he gets a chance, hoping the flames will even their odds.

Pink isn’t daunted by their actions—he chases after them with a snarl, reloading his gun quickly, wildly firing at the two of them.

One shot goes through Corazon’s left shoulder, but he keeps running through the pain. Stopping means getting killed, means that those they released and told to head for the western border have a lower chance of survival. Getting out of Dressrosa means Admiral Sengoku has free reign. The captives would be given protected fugitive status if they could make it twenty miles outside the city.

Blood oozing down his side, Corazon offers his partner a wobbly smile. “I can’t leave a trail. We should split up.”

“They won’t be following us much longer,” Aokiji frustratedly retorts. “Shut up and keep moving.”

“You need to leave me behind.”

“You’re not my commanding officer, so I don’t see the need to listen to you.”

Corazon snaps. “I don’t see why you’re in such a hurry to get yourself killed.”

Aokiji steadies the blonde’s gait when he stumbles over a tree root. “I don’t see why _you’re_ in such a hurry to die. I thought you had somebody waiting for you.”

Suddenly growing quiet, Corazon says, “I do.”

“Then let’s go. Nobody’s gonna bite it today.”

Be it through fate or fortune, Pink yells for his men to scour the grounds. They have a lot of money to salvage from the burning building, and several state secrets are locked away in his private office. He glares at the two men escaping on the horizon before barking out instructions for his gang members, upset about the unfortunate report he’s going to have to file to the boss.

Later, Aokiji performs shitty first aid on his fellow officer. “You’re bleeding out and you want to write a _letter_?”

“I told him I’d get back to him within the month,” Corazon rasps, vision threatening to go black. “He might leave if I don’t do it today, and then how will I keep him safe?”

“Fine job you’re doing of that,” Aokiji mutters, tightening the bandages around the hole. “Twitch your fingers, if you can.”

Corazon obliges, a loopy smile drifting onto his face. “Little bit. Got lucky.”

“You can say that again.”

> _L,_
> 
> _Might be late getting home. Got busy. Don’t worry about me._
> 
> _Be safe,_
> 
> _—Cora._

The moment the blonde man drifts off, Aokiji shakes his head. Corazon had made him promise to deliver the message immediately, so he stands up, exhausted and sweaty from their journey.

“I don’t know how getting wrapped up in this mess is supposed to protect anyone,” Aokiji says, taking a moment to glance at the unconscious blonde, “but I sure hope you know what you’re doing.”

* * *

“No, no,” Hogback says, “you’ve got the numbers all wrong. The estimation is too low.”

“The numbers are from Vegapunk’s research,” Caesar whines, stubbornly waving the papers in his fellow doctor’s face. “My numbers are adjusted for animal testing. We won’t have a true estimate until we run the tests on humans.”

Monet and Doflamingo sweep into the room then; the two men turn to bow to the master of the manor. The blonde speaks first. “I overheard you. Do you have the resources to test it on a crowd yet?”

“Not quite,” Caesar says, rubbing his hands together with a smile. “I was ensured that you would be getting the necessary materials ready for an experiment, sir. By January, everything should be ready.”

“We’ve hit a couple snags,” Monet tells the doctors, “but we should have enough for a small-scale project. Is there anything else the two of you require to make this a success?”

“No, no,” Hogback grovels. “The Donquixote family has been most gracious.”

“We repay our debts,” Doflamingo replies, happily stroking his chin. “Sir Moria has been very helpful in securing alternate routes and offering funds to our cause. We have you to thank for making the connection.”

“It was my pleasure,” the fat doctor replies with a smirk.

“What are we waiting for, then?” The master spreads his arms wide in glee. “Let’s get started, gentlemen.”

* * *

In January, Cora finally hobbles home, finding Law slimmer and more sallow-eyed than ever. “You look like shit.”

The blonde laughs in response, ruffling the teenager’s hair. “You don’t look great yourself. Does all your food go to your bones and nothing else?”

“That’s scientifically impossible,” Law replies, failing to keep a wry smile off of his face. “Welcome back.”

Cora wraps his arms around Law with a hum. “Glad to be back.” He heads for the inn, only to be stopped by a tug on his good arm. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s not safe,” the boy explains. “I’ve been staying with Dr. Kureha through the solstice. Vergo was here.”

“Damn it, Law,” Cora curses. “You should’ve left.”

Law sternly shakes his head, punching the man in the gut hard enough to make him furl in on himself. “You made good on your promise. I made good on mine.”

With a sigh, Cora stares up at the clouds, letting snow fall on the bridge of his nose. “What do you think we should do?”

“I say we stay here for another year unless something major comes up.” Law starts walking to Dr. Kureha’s office. “He wasn’t looking for us, but we need to figure out what they’re up to. If we can stop it before it’s too late, we can save a lot of people on the continent.”

Cora raises an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t care if people died.”

Law frowns. “I don’t.”

“What’s with all this, then?”

Toothily, the teenager grins up at him. “It’s payback. If Doflamingo wants us dead, we kill him first. Fight fire with fire.”

Cora scoffs. “You’ll just happen to save a few thousand people in the process, huh?”

“That’s neither here nor there. Look, are you with me or not?”

Law holds out his hand for a shake and Cora takes it. “I’m with you. But don’t get any funny ideas, buddy. If I find out you’re committing senseless murders behind my back, I’ll make sure you get locked up for your crimes.”

Law snorts. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave any evidence behind.”

It’s a dark joke, but Cora can’t help laughing, ruffling Law’s hair as they walk.

Still, the man can’t keep the image from lingering in the back of his head. Cora can only hope that Law’s intentions remain pure, because the military needs all the help it can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> probs gonna put up ch 3 within 7-10 days. thank you so, so much for reading!
> 
> as always, feel free to chat w/ me on:
> 
> ♥tumblr: **[@quillifer](https://quillifer.tumblr.com/)**  
>  ♥twitter: **[@quillifer](https://twitter.com/quillifer)**


	3. act iii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made [a loose map](https://66.media.tumblr.com/5618a0ae86c201791f567468aec15238/fcb744c333112bcf-d1/s640x960/04fbc7b4b33db0dee3b67d6a64a52c368b11cabf.png) of the continent for anyone interested. having so many locations meant i needed a guide for myself, lol. enjoy! ♥

“Please help him,” Sabo and Ace beg in unison.

Luffy’s been sick for days on end, the rapid change in the weather from Donquixote territory to Providence causing his temperature to spike. The city is rife with turmoil, so they’ve had no issue squatting in an old house the past few weeks. However, Luffy’s condition has gotten dire, and they’ve been forced to seek out the only place they know will take care of him—a small orphanage in the middle of town.

Genzo, a scarred old war vet, lets them in from the pouring rain and gives them tea. “I’ll take him, but I don’t have room for three,” he gruffly explains. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Ace says, bowing deeply in gratitude. “Thank you.”

After giving them some bread and telling them to be careful, Genzo sees the two older boys off, telling his on-site nurse, Bellemère, to come in and take a look at Luffy. He’s barely lucid, the fever making him loopy, words garbled as he answers her questions.

Bellemère gives him plenty of fluids and the medicinal syrup she’d designed for children, the bitterness of the herbs masked by sugar. Luffy’s fever breaks after his fourth day of bedrest, breath evening out in his sleep. His cheeks are still ruddy, but when the older boys come by to check on him, he’s well enough to sit up and rasp out replies.

“We don’t have a penny to our names,” Ace tells Genzo in privacy, “but we’ll earn his keep. Just tell us what to do.”

“It’s fine,” Genzo grunts. “Don’t worry about tryin’ to pay. I got my fair share of brats around here.”

Sabo and Ace skulk around looking for work regardless, but there aren’t many places willing to hire ten-year-olds who refuse to talk about their past. They go fishing and hunting every morning, bartering their winnings for salt at the market because they can’t offer the shopkeepers anything else.

Eventually, Genzo gives them a lead. “It’s an iron mine run by an old kook named Montblanc, but he’ll take you under his wing. Several days away on foot, though. You’d have to leave your brother here until he’s healthy enough to join you.”

The two boys share a look, then Sabo lowers his head demurely. “Thank you. Just so you know, Luffy’s normally pretty reckless. We’ll owe you a lot more when we get back.”

“You don’t owe me nothin’ anyways,” Genzo insists, shooing the lads off of his porch. “Now get. Good luck, you hooligans.”

* * *

True to Sabo’s word, Luffy is a handful once he’s recovered.

“Nami,” Luffy shouts, chasing after a redheaded girl who’s been with Genzo since he first opened the doors for business. She’s giggling, so her guardians don’t feel the need to scold the boy, but the two of them are making a right mess of the common area.

Nojiko, Nami’s older sister, watches them play with a wry smile on her face. Eventually, Bellemère is the one who has to step in and stop the madness, lest the children destroy the couch, or worse.

Luffy’s generally high-spirited about the separation from his brothers, keeping a level head about things. “They went on an adventure,” is what he says when Genzo explains what they’ve gone to do, then he zips off to cause a ruckus.

He’s bright and carefree through the winter, and even as spring bleeds into summer, he doesn’t lose his sense of optimism. Every day, he goes out to train, continuing to hone his instincts. It’s hard, at first, to hunt without anyone else to rely on, so he ropes Nami into joining him. The girl kicks up a fuss, explaining that she’s too _refined_ for all that, but he tugs on her wrist until she gives in, the two of them becoming fast friends.

When Ace and Sabo finally manage to visit, over two years have passed.

Luffy is slack-jawed in awe at their stocky builds. “You both got so big,” he says, throwing himself into long, hardy hugs with both of his brothers. They’re a close-knit unit, Sabo ruffling Luffy’s hair while Ace slaps him on the back. “Where’d you get that cool scar?”

Sabo shrugs, tossing Luffy up on his shoulders. “Accident in the mines. Where’d you get yours?”

“Did it to myself. Bunch’a people in town said I didn’t have guts, so I stabbed myself in the face to prove ‘em wrong.”

Ace whistles. “Sounds about right.” Reaching up to tickle Luffy, he delights in the younger boy’s squeals, a huge grin on his face. “I can’t believe you’re nine already.”

“Almost ten,” Luffy huffily corrects him, hopping off of Sabo’s shoulders and proudly pointing to his chest. “See? I’m not so little anymore.”

Sure enough, he’s had a growth spurt, but he’s more tall than wide, long limbs oddly juxtaposed against his well-formed abs. “You’ll always be our baby brother,” Ace reminds him, pinching Luffy’s cheek. “I can tell you’ve been keeping up with your training, though. Whaddaya say? Up for a sparring match?”

With twinkling eyes, Luffy shouts, “ _Always_ ,” sandals slapping against the ground as he hurries to follow the teenagers into the forest.

* * *

When the three of them hobble back to the orphanage in the evening, Luffy has his lip stuck out. “I can’t believe I lost a hundred times in a row. I usually win.”

“Not against us,” Sabo says, heartily digging into the meal Genzo’s prepared for them.

They pay the man an egregiously hefty sum for keeping an eye on Luffy for so long, explaining that it’ll be another two years before their little brother is ready to go. Genzo had balked at that, responding that Luffy would only be twelve, that he’d be welcome to stay until he was sixteen, same as all the other children.

“Two years from now is fine,” Luffy retorts, brows furrowed. “I’ve got loads to do and life is short.”

For all that Luffy can be childish and wily, he occasionally has flashes of inspiration that make him seem wise beyond his years. It baffles Genzo, who sits in stunned silence while the chattering siblings swap stories about what they’ve been up to.

Eventually, Luffy gets bored and bounds off, chasing down Nami and Usopp, the newest addition to the house. Ace and Sabo watch him play for a while before standing up, whispering to themselves about their plans. Genzo finds himself eavesdropping, hiding around a corner to listen in.

“The slave trade is booming, thanks to the Donquixote family. Remember Koala?” Ace nods at Sabo’s words. “I’ve been exchanging letters with her since she left the mines. Apparently, she’s been helping her fellows escape out west. That’s where I’m headed.”

“I’ve got some guys waiting for me down south, so I guess this is where we part ways.” They clench hands, smirking at each other. “Don’t die out there, blondie.”

“Same goes to you, freckles.”

Genzo’s scowls deeply as the adolescents head out to catch separate cabs.

Apparently, they don’t plan on telling their little brother goodbye.

* * *

Sanji, another orphan who’d been plucked off the streets and given a place to live by a cook named Zeff, clicks his tongue at Luffy. “Your brothers are in town?” He shakes his head. “You gotta warn a guy. We don’t have enough food in this city for three people with your appetite.”

“How could I have warned you?” When Luffy reaches forward to try and pluck the raw meat off of the griddle, the older boy swats his hand with a spatula. “I didn’t know they were coming. Besides, they’re gone now. They left last night.”

The blonde raises an eyebrow. “They were only here for a day?”

“Yeah. They came to see how I was doin’, and I’m good. Why would they stay?”

Sanji snorts, taking a quick drag of the cigarette hanging off of his lips. “And you’re fine with that, huh?"

Luffy grins. “Yeah. We always said we’d go on our own journeys. They’re older than me, so they’ve got a head start.”

“If you say so,” Sanji hums in reply, reaching out to pat his friend’s head. “Well, makes my job easier.” Flipping the meat until it has a fine sear on it, he puts it on a platter and serves it hot. “Eat up.”

* * *

Luffy isn’t one to dwell on the past, but the sleepy days leading up to his twelfth birthday remind him of afternoons long past at the grimy pier in Fuchsia.

He remembers his grandfather taking him by the hand and showing him around. Remembers spotting his starving brothers in the alleyway, spending weeks trailing after them until they’d sworn a pact together. Remembers the first day they’d come to Garp’s house, the way he’d scolded them for stealing, but congratulated them on surviving, messily patching up their wounds.

Luffy also remembers the sounds of canons firing, flames engulfing the whole town. The way Makino and Shanks had helped him and his brothers escape before losing sight of them. They’d been forced to wade through the gutters to get out of the city, and they’d been captured in their sleep, taken to the Donquixote manor bound in chains.

Ace had wanted to fight tooth and nail to try and escape the caravan. Sabo had been the one who’d insisted that they behave, at least for the time being—he’d said the opportunity to escape would come if they were patient.

 _I’m finally gonna explore the world_ , Luffy thinks to himself, packing up his bags with a smile.

He hasn’t seen Nami or Usopp around, much to his disappointment, but he doesn’t have time to wait for them. Genzo keeps badgering him to stay, insisting that it’s still too dangerous in the world, that he’s too young. Luffy tunes him out, humming a little ditty under his breath.

He gallops through the streets, whooping a cheery goodbye to anyone within earshot. The folks nearby are teary-eyed, shaking their head at him, as always. He’s been a walking disaster for four-and-a-half years, but he’s been _their_ disaster. The citizens of Providence will miss him terribly when he’s gone.

Luffy makes it to the border before he finally spots his two best friends from the orphanage. Amazingly, Sanji’s also beside them, which makes Luffy blink in confusion. The adolescent is hardly ever away from the restaurant if he can help it.

Nami holds up a hand when Luffy’s close enough to see it and he comes to a grinding halt. He scowls. “What’s the big idea? You guys weren’t home to see me off. I told you I was leavin’ first thing in the morning.”

Adjusting a bag on her shoulder, Nami huffs. “We’re coming with you.”

Luffy’s jaw drops. “But you all said you didn’t have any reason to move and that traveling was stupid.”

Sanji kicks him in the shins, making Luffy yelp. “We told you traveling _by yourself_ was stupid. You can barely even read maps.”

“You can barely _read_ ,” Usopp airily adds. Luffy responds by cackling. “Don’t worry, I, the brave and wondrous Usopp, shall guide your journey to the lands far beyond.”

Nami jabs both of them in the sides. “More like _I_ will, since I’ve got the best sense of direction here. You three can do all the dirty work.”

“I’m happy to have you along,” Luffy says, “but I don’t want you guys to give up your dreams for me. Sanji, weren’t you gonna take over the restaurant from your dad? I know Nami was studying history and fancy drawings.”

“Maps, dummy,” Nami corrects him. “I was learning how to draw maps, so I’m following my dream now more than ever. I wouldn’t leave the comfort of a warm bed just for you.”

“I’m gonna be the best chef in the world,” Sanji chimes in. “Which means I have to study famous cuisine from different places. It was a pain to convince the old man to let me go since I’m the best chef he has, but I managed.”

“Yeah right,” Usopp scoffs. “I bet you cried like a baby when you left.”

“That’s none of your business,” the blonde snarls, chasing Usopp into the horizon.

Giggling, Luffy throws up his hands. “That’s great, Sanji. Usopp, what about you?”

“I dunno,” he squawks, dodging Sanji’s fast feet. “I’m not too sure yet. I always thought I wanted to be a blacksmith because it’d be easy to do, but honestly, I wanna be some kinda knight or ensign. I’m not a noble or nothin’, but hey. Dreaming is free.”

“You’ll do it,” Luffy assures him, patting him on the back and tugging him forward, running so fast that Sanji has trouble keeping up. “I’m gonna be the king of the world!”

“But you hate titles,” Nami muses. “And what’s that supposed to _mean_ , anyways?”

“It means I’m free to do whatever I want,” Luffy replies, teething flashing white in the sun.

* * *

The four adolescents don’t get along the first month or two.

Sanji’s often cranky, yelling that Luffy can’t waste all of their salt before make it fifty miles out of the city. Usopp and Nami drag their heels when they think Luffy’s getting them into a bad spot, but overall, they learn each other’s rhythms and get used to being nomads.

Usopp and Nami are amazing at bartering with merchants they come across, finding that Luffy’s wades through rivers have turned up some fancy old jewelry and polished stones. Sanji ensures that their nutrition is balanced, watching to make sure they don’t eat anything poisonous by accident.

By August, their ambling travels have taken them halfway across the continent, unsure where they’re headed next. They’re scruffy, have a slight excess of continental cash, and Nami’s desperate to sleep in a bed for once. However, when they reach a city called Rogueport, her stomach turns. “I’ve heard bad rumors about this place.”

“Who cares,” Luffy mutters, fearless as always. He barges into the first inn he sees, a shoddy old place on the outskirts of town.

The redhead runs a hand down her face, long past resigned to following Luffy’s whims.

It’s quiet inside. Ghastly, even. It gives Usopp the chills. He tells everyone so while shivering.

There’s a beautiful woman at the counter, cool brown eyes sliding over to them as they approach the counter. “Rare to have visitors around here.”

“We’re just passing through,” Nami explains, lips curving up into a nervous smile. “Do you have baths in the rooms? Even a shower would do at this point, honestly, as long as the water’s clean.”

“Yes,” the lady replies, shuffling a bit to reach for her guestbook. “How many rooms?”

“Just one is fine.”

They exchange money, Nami dutifully scratching her name into the log. Luffy scurries off after dropping off his bags by their door, Sanji close on heels. His friends have learned that letting him roam free is a disaster waiting to happen, and he’s the one in charge of keeping an eye on the brunette today.

The further downtown they go, the more bustling the city becomes. The streets are filled to the brim with drunken misfits, dark tattoos and gnarly brands showcasing their history of trouble with the law. Sanji realizes the two huge buildings at the end of the lane are a brothel and a gambling house, neither of which does he want Luffy to stumble into accidentally.

Which, of course, means that his friend kicks open the door to the establishment on the right side. Luckily, it’s the lesser of the two disasters waiting to happen. Luffy knows about the practice of people selling their bodies for sex, but to say he’s not fond of it is an understatement.

“This place looks fun,” Luffy says, sandals slapping against the floor. He heads to the bar and orders something light, dropping a handful of change on the counter. “What’re they doing?”

The barkeep huffs. “Throwin’ dice and bettin’ on the games. You know how to play cards?”

“Dunno what cards are.”

Sanji takes the seat next to Luffy and orders a pint, carefully studying the rugged clientele. He pulls out a cigarette, but keeps his spine straight just in case a fight breaks out. The barkeep speaks again, pointing to one of the larger tables. “See those right there? Those l’il paper things? Those’re cards. Got different numbers and royals on ‘em, fifty-two to a set. Bunch’a folks got rules for different games.”

Luffy’s eyes go wide, on the cusp of asking for more details when someone busts through the door, bloody and wild-eyed. With two swords in his hands, he poses a threat, everyone breaking from their gambling to stare at him. It’s not uncommon, around these parts, for this sort of thing to happen, so the more violent players stand up with their own weapons, ready to fend the intruder off.

The stranger stalks over to the barkeep. “Tell me everything you know about the north.”

Holding up his hands in surrender, the barkeep opens his mouth to answer, but he’s interrupted by the messy-haired boy at the counter. “Hey. What gives you the right to bother him? You haven’t even ordered anything.”

Sanji drags a hand down his face and groans, pushing the butt of his cigarette into an ashtray. No use trying to hold Luffy back now—he’s probably going to throw the first punch.

“My village was gassed down two months ago, and I’ve become a headhunter to kill whoever was responsible for that,” the grimy-haired man grunts. Lifting one of his blades so it’s an inch away from Luffy’s nose, he snarls. “Stay out of my way or I’ll cut you down. I’ve got no business with you.”

“Gas?” Sanji asks.

Lowering his swords a bit, the man says, “Yes, poison gas. Rumor has it that a country to the north of here has been swallowing up small countries. If diplomacy doesn’t work, their leader sends his goons to murder thousands of civilians. Those _fortunate_ enough to escape death wind up imprisoned, and word is that they’re tortured, or worse.” When Sanji and Luffy don’t respond, he turns back to the barkeep. “What do you know?”

“There’re two large countries to the northwest on the continent. Closest of ‘em is Midway, and the one on the coast is Donquixote territory.” Luffy turns from the swordsman to the barkeep with an odd blink. The name reminds him of something, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. “Used to be just as small as Drum, its neighboring country, but now it’s easily ten times its original size. I’d say that’s your best bet.”

Armed with the information he requires, the man finally puts his swords down. Everyone around them exhales, able to relax at last.

“Hey,” Luffy says, tugging on the stranger’s sleeve. “Come back to our place tonight and tell me more about this.”

“ _Luffy_ ,” Sanji stresses, exasperated.

Looking him up and down, the stranger frowns. “Why should I do that?”

“Because you look awful and I say so.”

For whatever awful reason, his bullshit coercion works.

* * *

Nami walks in to find a grimy man toweling off in their crowded room. She points at him, utterly unphased. “Who’s this?”

“Name’s Zoro,” Luffy replies, chewing on a mouthful of cured meat. “Says he wants to go sailing with us if we make it worth his while. I said it was fine.”

Usopp follows Nami inside, rolling his eyes. “We haven’t found a ship yet and you’re already making promises to some guy we’ve never met before?”

“We’ll steal one, then,” Luffy says, which only makes his friends shake their heads. Zoro boggles at the outrageous suggestion. “What? It can’t be that hard.”

“Putting that ridiculous notion aside for the moment,” Sanji snaps, slapping the back of Luffy’s head. “I do think we need to get off the continent for a while. Shit’s about to get ugly.”

Nami takes a seat on the floor. “Alright, explain.”

Zoro repeats his story to the redhead slowly. The first time, Luffy had gotten bored halfway through and drifted off to sleep, but Sanji had listened attentively and summarized the important points. This time, he bounds off immediately, going to pester the pretty innkeeper for interesting stories.

The swordsman talks about the rapidly shifting climate on the continent. That there’s a major force of destruction creeping through the lands and over the mountains, set to make everyone comply through hell and high water.

For the last five years, the leader of the Donquixote family has been worming his way into the pockets of nobility, and there’s nothing the military can do about it. They have too much of their money tied up with subduing riots in the northeast, and keeping the peace in Dressrosa, a country not far off the coast of Donquixote territory.

Zoro wipes the blood off of his swords with stony eyes, fully aware that he’s being warily stared at. “I know it’s a risk, charging in there without a plan,” he says, “but it’s one that I have to take. I’d give up my life to get revenge for my village.”

“Against a growing power like that?” Usopp frowns. “Are you insane?”

“What other choice do I have? I’m not just going to roll over and die.”

With a hum, Nami puts a finger on her chin. “Poison gas sounds like a game changer…what other operations does he run?”

Zoro raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

Her hands fly in rapid gestures to help illustrate her point. “We came from Cocoyashi, which is due west from Drum. I’ve heard of the Donquixote family, but they didn’t own much when I was a kid. A couple farms, maybe a manor or two. If they’ve expanded so quickly, chances are there’s dirty money involved. Counterfeiting, slave-trade, gambling, producing new drugs. Know anything about that?”

Zoro shakes his head, earrings clinking together with the motion. “I only heard of them last year. I usually shake down public types, like barkeepers, for information, and I kill dangerous men for their bounties. I’ve never thought to ask about those kinds of things.”

Nami sighs. “Right. Of course not.” She stands up and puts a hand on her hip. “Well, we’ve got logistics to figure out first. Since you’ve decided to throw your lot in with us, Luffy won’t let you walk to your death alone.”

Usopp shivers. “Have I mentioned that I love the idea of fighting a world-class crime lord? Just _love_ it. Favorite thing we’ve ever decided to do, hands down.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sanji retorts, slapping him on the back hard enough to make him sputter.

* * *

After much deliberation and several days spent in town doing various jobs, Nami concludes that Luffy’s farfetched idea isn’t all that farfetched.

“I would try to make a plan,” she says, “but honestly, I don’t think Luffy would listen.”

Sanji and Usopp grimace, silently agreeing with her. Zoro doesn’t know what the hell is wrong with this weird group, but they’re his fastest ticket to the other side of the continent, especially if it’s building up military might as fast as he thinks it is.

Therefore, they wait until the middle of the night to throw a rope with grappling hook anchors tied to the ends. The five of them climb up quickly with Luffy leading the charge. He’s grinning and eager the whole time, practically singing when he throws the first elbow to the ribs, his extremities covered with iron plates, courtesy of Usopp’s tinkering.

The fourth shiphand realizes there’s a breach, attempting to alert another swabby on board. Zoro’s sword goes straight through his neck, and he shakes the blood off the blade without thinking, an automatic gesture.

Nami and Usopp handle the quieter operations, choking out the dozing man by the helm and shooting a bow through the heart of the lookout in the crow’s nest, respectively. Sanji watches Zoro and Luffy’s backs, kicking some of the grunts off of the ship with ease.

They’re lucky because there aren’t many people aboard—it’s not an enormous ship, because it would be too much trouble for five people to steer. By the time they clear out the sloppy guards, there are only a couple children hiding in storage and a handful of passengers riding stowaway. Sanji insists that they take the ladder down to the pier until he hears the sound of a police bell ringing in the distance. Nami orders them to unfurl the mainsail and the foresail, apologizing to those still aboard for having to throw them in the water.

Brimming with confidence and pleased as a peach, Luffy throws up his arms in victory.

“You realize we can never go back there again,” Usopp deadpans, groaning as he helps keep the sails properly adjusted.

“I think we’re a little more concerned about surviving right now,” Zoro replies, throwing his swords into their sheaths so his hands are open.

* * *

It’s dark when he gets home, no candle burning on the table, which is fine. It’s probably better that way.

He smashes a man’s nose into the table, the long blade of his sword pressed into the thin skin of the man’s neck. “You defected,” he says. “Tell me why.”

“I only joined because my family was threatened,” the man whimpers, tears racing down his cheeks. “I’m _sorry_ , I never wanted to hurt anybody.”

“ _Enough_ ,” he says, voice gravelly with impatience. “Give me details. Formations, tactics, bases of operation.”

“I wasn’t that influential,” his hostage shakily murmurs. “I don’t know how useful I can be, but I’ll give you names of my superior officers, too. Please, just let me go.”

He ties the man to a chair with a scowl. “Make this information worth my while and I’ll consider it.”

Several tense minutes pass, the man’s hand shaking as he scribbles out locations, dates, and names, as promised. The tall youth eventually takes the list and gives it to another young person who stops by his window. “Run these for me. I need to make sure he didn’t lie,” he says. The burly teen sets off quickly, folding the paper and putting it in his breast pocket to keep it safe.

His hostage eventually drifts off into a doze, face still tacky from crying. He crosses his legs while he waits, flipping through the papers.

 _HELLIONS ON THE LOOSE IN THE SOUTH_ , an article on the third page reads. There’s a description included of a ragtag band of thieves, only five strong, but coordinated enough to steal a small ship. He stifles a bitter laugh when he sees two of the names given by witnesses.

 _A redheaded woman named Nami and a dark-haired man named Luffy_ , it says. Law can’t help smiling and shaking his head, bewildered to hear word of his old childhood friend after all these years.

“You crazy son of a bitch,” he whispers. “You got out.”

When Bepo returns, he vouches for the validity of these locations with other members of Law’s crew, another hodgepodge association of scoundrels and rogues. Law stabs his hostage through the back, watching blood ooze from him and life drain out of his eyes without making a sound.

“Sorry,” Law says. “I don’t like taking lives needlessly, but you could’ve been a spy. I couldn’t risk it.”

Afterwards, Law idly wishes that he’d put a cloth underneath the chair.

It’s going to be a pain in the ass to explain the bloodstain to Cora.

* * *

Cora comes back from his job at the Reinweld manor in the morning, eyeing the suspicious patch on the floorboards. “Welcome home,” Law says, casually sipping a cup of coffee.

The blonde takes a seat with a frown. “You and your vigilante friends haven’t been up to anything, have you?”

“I reserve my right to remain silent,” he responds, tone flat.

They have an agreement, of sorts. Cora is a man of the law, and the less he knows about his son’s criminal activity, the better. If he doesn’t ask too many questions, he’ll have plausible deniability.

Unfortunately, he’s a soft-hearted fool who only wants the best for his boy. “You keep doing this and you’re painting a target on your back. It won’t be long until he finds out you have spies on his base.”

Law snaps, a vein pulsing in his temple. “So, what—I just sit here and behave myself, hoping he doesn’t burn the world down?”

“Even _he_ deserves to be brought to justice through the right channels. By doing all this, you’re stooping to his level!”

The words sting, and Law reels at them. He’s a few months shy of eighteen, and as fervent as he is about putting Doflamingo out of commission, he’s still quite young in terms of life experience.

The fight deflates out of Cora after a minute or two. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You meant it,” Law says lowly. “It’s not like your hands are clean. You know _why_ I’m doing it. If I’d let him go, I would’ve put both of us at risk.”

Cora puts his head in his hands. “I know, Law. I just didn’t want this for you. I hate that we can’t manage to put my brother in jail. Military standards and practices are too antiquated. He’s safe, protected by hundreds of wealthy patrons.”

“Which is why you should trust me,” Law says. “I know what I’m doing.”

The older man smiles sadly, putting a hand on Law’s shoulder. “I really don’t think that you do.”

* * *

**— _3 years earlier—_**

From Drum, they’d traveled east, wanting to stay away from the coastline. Cora had lamented over their lack of reliable escape from the continent if worse had come to worse, but Law had heard gossip about how terrible the living situation had become in Donquixote territory. He doesn’t feel the guilt pressing down on his chest and suffocating him anymore, not like he had when he’d been thirteen, but it’s still an aching wound in his mind.

They’re a day away from town when a ratty-looking woman runs up to them, gasping for air with cracked lips. Law says she’s dehydrated to the point of collapse, demanding that they stop and make camp so that he can spend the afternoon nursing her back to health.

When she wakes up to the scene of Cora and Law chatting by the fire, it takes her several minutes to orient herself. She tries to sit up and Law rushes over, encouraging her to remain calm and lie back down.

She doesn’t have the water in her body to waste, but her eyes blink rapidly, desperately wishing she could cry. Her voice is raspy as she explains that a horde of men on horseback had ransacked her city, the leader of the group demanding audience with the king.

“There was fire everywhere. Great gobs of it. One of the soldiers had something I’ve never seen before—a little capsule filled with gas. The flames spread too quickly for us to control, and water only seemed to make them climb higher. I’m afraid our kingdom will fall soon.”

Law’s heart skips a beat, always one to keep up with trends in scientific advancement and chemical warfare. An article had been published last year about the possibility of such a thing, but nobody had believed it would be possible so quickly.

The scientists had gotten funding from somewhere, and he’s certain he knows.

As if confirming his theory, Cora is the one to ask about the color of their uniforms.

“Brown, with red accents,” she’d answered, striking both of them with fear down to the core.

Law leaves the woman his canteen and wishes her well on her travels, turning from the east to the distant north, where hopefully, Doflamingo’s reign of terror has yet to reach.

The blonde man holds Law close the first few nights after that encounter, frightened of the vicious things his brother is capable of.

* * *

**— _2 years earlier—_**

Law turns sixteen in the boiling heat, his hair tied back with a cloth to keep sweat from running into his eyes. He’d run into an injured dairy salesman on the road, desperately pulling an axe out of the man’s forearm, tying a rope around his bicep, and handing him a flask full of whiskey for luck.

It’s a dangerous operation with the full possibility of the man losing his arm or being unable to feel his right side when Law is finished. He has no chance but to take the risk, because the alternative is letting the man bleed to death on the outskirts of town with splinters and bones peeking out of his skin.

The man bites down hard on the cloth in his mouth, fever giving him the shakes. Law saws away tirelessly, shutting out the muffled screams to finish his task.

When his patient passes out, it’s more of a relief than anything. He has to work faster to make sure the man doesn’t swallow his tongue and die, but overall, it’s a success because he can focus in the quiet.

He’s still breathing when Law’s finished, neat rows of thick stitches keeping the remaining patches of skin together. He comes to, filled with gratitude, determined to treat Law as a noble visitor, showering him and his traveling companion with swathes of food and drink.

Law’s humble about the whole ordeal—after all, it isn’t his first, fifth, or even his _fifteenth_ operation. The number of broken-down vagabonds he’s performed on are in the dozens now, the inherent level of violence and subsequent traumatic injuries on the continent surging to an all-new high.

He learns something from each encounter, getting a better idea of the lay of the land. If he wants to take down an enemy who gets stronger every day, he has to get smarter every day.

Cora talks him out of a suicide mission to sneak into Donquixote territory by himself and bring the man down. He does go and ask his superior officer what the hell he thinks the military is doing sitting on its laurels, however.

Sengoku slams his fists on a desk when questioned. “What the hell do you think I’m supposed to do? My bosses are breathing down my neck, insisting that the balance of power needs to be kept, which you and I know is complete _horseshit_.” Sengoku paces around the room. “Doflamingo’s pulling the strings. He married off one of his girls to the prince of Sousborough, and promised the hand of a boy to the princess of Pascal. That makes five major countries he has deep ties to on the continent, and three islands just off the coast, thanks to his connection with Gecko Moria.”

“We overlook all the ugly, illegal things he’s doing because he has the money?”

Stroking his beard, Sengoku stares off in the distance. “Unfortunately, yes. There’s not much more we can do. Legally, my hands are tied and we can’t touch him.”

Cora lights a cigarette, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Damn,” he murmurs, clenching his knee with his free hand, doing his best to keep furious tears from falling. “ _Damn_.”

* * *

Needless to say, Law isn’t pleased with the news.

He grabs the older man by the collar, pinning him up against the wall. “Cora,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “Don’t do this shit to me. You know he has to die—you _know it_ , and you stopped me.”

In moments like this, Cora remembers that Law really is very young. It makes him all the more upset to have this discussion. “I’m sorry, Law. We might have to find some way to bend the rules in our favor later, but there’s nothing the military can do right now.”

“No, what we need is a _plan_ ,” Law hisses, releasing Cora with a dark look in his amber eyes. “We need a task force outside of the military to go in and storm his golden fucking palace, rip the ground out from under him.”

This time, Cora is the one to grab his son. “ _Law_!” Law balks when his back hits the plaster. It’s been a long time since they’ve sparred, and they’re usually never this fired up when they do. “Do you understand what you’re talking about? He’s creeping towards being the most powerful man in the world right now. What’ll you do, form a militia? Wage a suicidal war with the Donquixote family?”

“Yes,” Law replies, voice ice-cold.

Cora lets him go, reeling back in stunned silence.

* * *

Presently, Law and Cora still vehemently disagree about policy and procedure.

They’re several miles from an area everyone calls the Junkyard, which Cora suspects Law plans to make his base in a few months. During the last year, he’s been especially active, moonlighting as a vigilante. He’s still a medic and a surgeon, the finest one this town’s ever seen, but now he keeps questionable company.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Cora’s work as a pierrot and his job in covert military operations keep him ludicrously busy. Since Law’s self-sufficient, he doesn’t have much of an excuse to duck out of his appointments, but he can see the way the _mission_ has taken over Law’s very being.

Cora doesn’t know what he can say to Law to keep him from spiraling into the darkness, but he has to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, as always! ♥♡ hopefully have another chapter up next week. :3
> 
> ✧tumblr: **[@quillifer](https://quillifer.tumblr.com/)**  
>  ✧twitter: **[@quillifer](https://twitter.com/quillifer)**


	4. act iv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updated maps! [[continental](https://66.media.tumblr.com/a35605af19ca09f59bfb90dee59ac4fe/abdc19d591ac190f-be/s1280x1920/628db5d79605bb39eb450ed3fcffcc389e7640c9.png)] + [[worldwide](https://66.media.tumblr.com/9cd9b564ccdfb9406172e3a63729f374/16a432740c4dc855-7d/s540x810/a34979b5979ac918af0f0bb6be94063a4a20a425.png)]
> 
> thank you guys for your love and support so far. as you might have noticed, i keep changing the final chapter count because i keep forgetting all these little details i want to include. ;A; i hope you continue to enjoy this story to the end! ♥♥

Doflamingo walks down the halls of the camp, Sugar and Dellinger hot on his heels.

With Baby 5 and Buffalo climbing the ranks as officers, he needs the two teenagers to step in as his aides, have them learn about the inner workings of the family business. Neither of them are shy about getting their hands dirty—in fact, he playfully tells them to stop bothering the captives in the upper hall as they walk by. He’s not here for them today.

Hogback meets him by the steps, leading the trio down to the basement with a lamp in hand, candle burning brightly. “This way, sir,” he says, grimy, pointy teeth glinting as he smiles. Dellinger kicks at Hogback’s legs, wondering why he hasn’t been properly greeted. Sugar tugs at Dellinger’s ear with a warning scowl on her face, aware that they should be behaving themselves while the master is watching.

Doflamingo simply shrugs when he turns around. “Dr. Hogback owes _anyone_ in my family their due respect. Isn’t that right?” Dellinger beams in delight.

After taking a moment to rub his sore calf, the doctor straightens his spine and coughs. “Yes, of course.” His tone is polite, bowing to the youth. “My apologies, young masters.”

There’s no more fuss for the rest of the journey, Hogback coming to a stop outside of a cell. Inside, there’s a woman with stitches and patches of animal skin messily woven into her thighs. Her hair is moments away from falling out, ribs poking out. It’s hard to believe that she’d been a military nurse on the frontlines just months ago.

Hogback opens his mouth to tell the master what delightful discoveries he’s found about the durability of the human body through his experiments, but before he can explain anything, the master holds up a hand. “Leave us.”

The doctor slinks out at the dismissal, resisting the urge to mutter ugly words under his breath. It isn’t worth the punishment. He hands over the keys in silence, dipping his head in deferment.

The cell door opens and closes with a soft creak, the hinges beginning to rust. Doflamingo holds his silence for a time, using the valuable time to build up his psychological prowess over the woman. Amazingly, there’s some fight in her eyes, despite the torture. Idly, the man wonders if she still believes that she’ll be saved.

“Tell me everything you know about the rebels,” Doflamingo says at last, grabbing her chin with gloved fingers.

Her lips wobble, but she doesn’t speak. Dellinger kicks her in the side, laughing as she sputters in response. “The master asked you a question.”

Sugar kneels down, digging through her satchel for a bunch of grapes. The woman nearly takes the teenager’s hand off in an attempt to get at the food, which forces Sugar to grab her by the hair and smirk. “Answer him.”

“I don’t know anything,” the woman rasps, practically drooling. “I’m from the military. It’s our duty to protect the interests of the Donquixote family.”

Doflamingo leans down so that he’s at eye-level with the trembling ex-officer. “Which is what I find so interesting. There have been obscenely large riots in the south, and three of my largest manufacturing facilities have been dismantled in the last two years.” The woman averts her eyes, causing the blonde man to stand back up and dig his heel into her head. Dellinger and Sugar snicker behind him, amused. “No one in the military seems to have the slightest idea where they’ve come from, or how my operations have been breached. These insignificant worms think they can intrude on my territory and make a fool of me, while the military stands by in silence. Peculiar, isn’t it?”

Digging the point of his shoes into the woman’s fingers, Dellinger covers his mouth, trying and failing to hide his sly smile. When she screams, Sugar rolls her eyes.

Doflamingo picks the woman up again, lip swollen from the impact of slamming into the concrete. She whimpers, too dehydrated to cry. “I don’t know anything about the rebels. I don’t, I _swear_.”

"She's an awfully loyal rat." Clicking his tongue, Doflamingo straightens his spine, gesturing for the young adults to follow him. “It’ll take a little longer to break her.” On their way out, Dr. Hogback catches the keys the man throws back to him before adjusting the large fur coat on his shoulders and walking out into the spring chill. He knows a command when he sees one, even if Doflamingo only glares at him, so the doctor scrambles out of his chair and gets back to work.

* * *

Law leans back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. _Five years_ , he thinks, exhausted down to his bones. _It’s already been five years._

The Junkyard has howling winds tearing through the piles of scrap metal at any given moment. Most of the area doesn’t have trees for that exact reason, but it doesn’t stop people from building new wheelbarrows or shanty houses, and it certainly doesn’t keep the wealthy nations of Quirrick and Lefstone from disposing of their unusable garbage here, hence the nickname.

It’s a lawless zone with no ties, no farmland, and no plausible exports, which makes it the perfect place for his group’s headquarters.

Donquixote territory has shifted from being a small village with the fully vested power of nobility to an empire, with seventy five percent of the continent’s countries turned into its colonies. Once upon a time, it had only been a contrived idea that Doflamingo would turn force his old allies to make their people his subjects. The kingdoms, countries, and aristocratic villages had swooned at the extreme wealth Doflamingo had promised them, only to be appalled and fearful when he had ripped the wool off of their eyes.

He’d declared himself the only man worthy of ruling the land three years ago, taking shit from bad to worse.

With the continental military repurposed and rebranded to suit Emperor Doflamingo’s needs, Law’s ragtag group of spies and confidants has grown ever more necessary. What had initially started with him, Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin, his three fellow down-and-out orphans, has sprawled to a force of two hundred, their more remote members required to write letters in code.

Ikkaku handles the bulk of their reconnaissance in the east, contacting the braver, more foolhardy members of the previous infantry to help their cause. She’s a master cryptologist, ensuring that everything gets back to Law as quickly as possible. She leaves them in the careful hands of Jean Bart, a royal mailman in their circle, who runs the letters under the guise of his usual line of work.

Law straightens up to finish taking his notes, scribbling specific details about operations, patient issues, and medicine prescribed. His files are repetitive, but not to the point of suspicion. In fact, to the average person, his notes look boring.

Fine by him. They have to lie low until the moment is right.

When he’s just about finished for the day, ready to put down his quill and close his books, Penguin knocks on the door. Law tells him to enter, glancing over at his friend out of the corner of his eye.

“You should read this,” Penguin says, holding out a copy of the newspaper.

 _RIOTS IN THE NORTH,_ the headline reads. Law clicks his tongue. “Shit.”

“We’re just lucky it’s not about us,” the older man wryly replies, a bitter smile on his lips. “It’s not likely that they’d come so far out of the way, but we can’t take our chances. Shachi and Bepo were talking about going to Loguetown to cut off his timber supply, but I think it’s too deep in enemy territory. We’d leave ourselves open to an attack without two of our best fighters if the emperor’s goons decided to come poking their heads around our turf.”

“We’re five days away from Hazard on horseback,” Law insists, standing up and pacing around the room, stroking his chin. “The mountains are too steep for them to scale if they came by land, and if they came in by ship, it’s more likely that they’d dock in Braville.”

“So what do you think we should do?”

Law stops for a moment and scowls. “I don’t think anyone’s going to like my plan.”

* * *

Nami talks over the ongoing fight between Zoro and Luffy with a melodramatic sigh. “Not that you care or anything,” she reminds them, “but we _are_ still planning a heist here.”

“Uh huh,” Luffy acknowledges her absently, managing to wrangle his friend into a chokehold before Zoro uses his superior bulk to pin Luffy to the deck. It’s a brief victory, because Luffy squirms out from under him in seconds—Luffy nearly always wins in terms of flexibility and persistence. If there are no weapons involved, it’s a given.

“That means _be quiet_ , you morons,” the redhead hisses, punching both of them in the head until they comply. “Do you want the money to sail back to the mainland or not?”

They’ve been sailing pretty haphazardly for the past few years, trying to learn more about the world before dealing with Zoro’s sworn enemy. More than anything, they’ve been branded as criminals. A short circuit around the east coast of the continent had proven vastly unhelpful to their cause, because they’d been chased out of the major ports. Their information is stilted and hard to come by, rumors traded with other sailors they cross paths with on the faraway lands of Dresden and Morgiana.

Right now, they’re docked at an unruly port on one of the continent’s southeastern barrier islands, and Nami is at her wit’s end. “Can we kill them? Please tell me we can kill them.”

Franky and Robin, two of the newest members of their crew, stowaways who had been desperate to escape from Morgiana to avoid execution, simply smile. They think everything Luffy does is downright adorable, even though his bounty keeps climbing to positively absurd heights.

Crawling out from under Zoro’s arm, Luffy grins at his navigator. “Is it time to kick some ass?” When she snarls at him, he pouts. “Alright, fine. Call me when it’s time.” Bored of fighting with Zoro, he asks Sanji for a snack and chases down Usopp to play games, though the former kicks him for ignoring Nami, and the latter shakes his head in denial because he plans on making it out of this risky heist alive.

They execute their plan at midnight, Robin throwing butterfly knives into the necks of the guards so they can’t call for help. She scans the perimeter before signaling the rest of the gang to move in, making sure their escape route remains secure.

It’s easy to break in and pick the locks of the safe. _Too easy_ , Usopp thinks, but by that point it’s too late.

A bulky man who looks more like a member of the church than a hired hand knocks the wind out of Sanji, and another wavy-haired man nearly blows out Zoro’s back, kicking him right in the spine.

Luffy manages to blindside the clergy-looking creep with a club, making rivulets of blood run down his face. “Grab what you can and run. _Split up_ ,” he yells the command, watching as his friends scramble to get up and go.

Their frantic mad dash works, though Robin has to take a moment to signal Franky, who’s still aboard their ship, that they have to make a run for it by land. The winds aren’t high enough tonight to make an escape by water.

It’s dark and well-forested by the town; all seven of them are fighters. They keep the rabble off of them with ease. Unfortunately, the curly-haired man on their tail is persistent, determined to bring Luffy down, if no one else.

The chase lasts for ages, until he’s far enough away from town that the curly-haired man finally loses sight of him. Luffy’s difficult to catch in places like this—the years of being on the run have trained him to make the most of forested terrains.

Once he finally has a chance to catch his breath, he confirms that his bag of treasure is still safe. Three days ago, he’d buried it, giving himself more leeway to jump into trees and lay traps for his pursuer. More frustratingly, in the interest of being quiet, he hasn’t eaten anything other than bugs and berries, his stomach growling in earnest.

He spends the afternoon fishing, remembering Robin’s words of advice. She’d told them that, in the event that anything like this ever happened, that they should devise a meeting place. Somewhere loud and busy. A pub in a grimy part of town, for example.

Luffy tries to read the scribbly map Nami had given for two minutes before he gives up, idling through the woods until he sees he road. He can only hope it leads to somewhere safe, and that his friends can find him.

* * *

Bepo nervously bites his lip, scowling at his best friend. “This is a stupid idea,” the burly man says, toes tapping on the wood. “Are you gonna tell your dad?”

Law rolls his eyes. “No. First of all, he’s not home, so I couldn’t tell him even if I _wanted_ to. Second, it’d be a real pain in the ass if he found out.”

Cora’s a soldier in name only, these days. He refuses to report to headquarters, likely because doing so will get him killed. With the collapsing structure of nobility, his regular line of work as a pierrot is going out of business. Lately, he’s been dabbling in bar entertainment, squeaking out a few decent tunes on a fiddle at places around the continent, but more often than not, he helps their neighbors with tasks around town for little to no pay. Milking cows, catching stray chickens, fixing signs.

Cora’s too kind, which is his biggest virtue and his greatest failing.

“I think he could help you, Law. He knows how to do that whole spy thing.”

Law organizes his tools neatly, tying a thick animal hide around the blades of his scissors, pliers and scalpels. “It’s not up for discussion, Bepo.” After he double checks to make sure he has enough rations to last for a week, he stretches his back, reaching for his longsword as he stands. “You’re in charge while I’m gone.”

Bepo puts his hands on Law’s shoulders, frowning deeply. “I’ll do my best. Be safe out there.”

“I will.”

Law doesn’t like lying to him, but it’s a necessary evil.

If he dies on this mission, he wants to leave his friends on good terms.

* * *

The weather is decent on the way down south, at least. Law doesn’t care for the heat in the middle of the continent, but it’s better than trying to climb the mountains barehanded. Furthermore, he has to buy a horse and refill his stock. Sucking on sugar cane doesn’t do much to curb his appetite.

The days begin to blur together after the ninth, his sleep as restless as it’s been since age thirteen. For almost ten years, he’s been preparing to wage war, and now that the time’s finally come, he feels emptier than ever.

If his friends die while he’s away from the Junkyard, even if he manages to kill Doflamingo or destroy his warehouse, he’ll never forgive himself. It would be a pyrrhic victory.

No sense on mulling over the possibilities.

Law adjusts his bag on the horse’s saddle, squirming on the leather until he finds a comfortable position. He still has weeks to go until he makes it to Loguetown, and his only saving grace is that it will take just as long for the Donquixote family to make it to Braville.

* * *

The capital of Loguetown, a small colony situated between Cocoyashi and Midway, is loud.

There have been some obvious alterations to the landscape courtesy of the Donquixote family, but the old archways and steadfast architecture remain unchanged in the city center, neat lines of granite pathways weaving through the streets.

On every street corner, there are racketeers and gamblers yelling for people to bet on the fights and the races, bawdily dressed women whistling for his attention as he walks by. There’s nothing interesting until he makes it to the outskirts of town, a large hill that’s being leveled with a shock of soldiers standing around it, guarding the premises heavily. _Bingo._

Law ducks behind a pillar, listening to their idle chatter. He figures out how long they’ve been in town, when construction is planned to be finished, where they currently reside. The new building had been commissioned because they’re spilling out of the place they run tricks out of now, with slaves dying on top of each other in cells and millions of false bills being crafted every day.

He holds back his anger, saves it for later. He can kill them all off one by one if he plays his cards right.

Of course, all the planning comes to a grinding halt when he spots a young man wandering by, looking worse for the wear. The oddball fans his face as he casually walks over to the toughs guarding the land, twenty or thirty people reaching for their weapons immediately.

“Listen,” the youth says, “I gotta find something to eat, a real popular place. It’s important.”

“Nobody without identification is s’posed to be allowed in the city, kid,” a guard says, sliding a knife out of his back holster. “Nobody allowed on this side of town, period. How’d you wind up here?”

“Smelled good this way.” The youth shrugs. “Figured it was a restaurant.”

Only then does Law notice that there _is_ a suspicious volume of high-quality meat being roasted near the construction grounds, likely an enticing reward for the emperor’s vassals.

“Well, too bad for you. This is private property. You got papers?”

“No.”

Two more grunts step forward to intimidate the young man, but he doesn’t flinch at all. “Then you’ve got no problem with us arresting you for trespassing.”

Before the dark-haired youth can pull his elbow back and start to fight, Law runs out from behind the column, taking care to make sure his scarf covers his face despite the blazing heat. “Apologies,” he says, grabbing the young man’s elbow, making their joint posture small and submissive. “He’s with me. He’s a bit off, my brother, and I lost track of him this morning. I’m a traveling doctor.”

He pulls out his papers, all thoroughly and extensively forged, with the name _Talwar Fonda_ printed on them. He can tell the youth is a moment away from blowing their cover, so he slings an arm over the youth’s shoulder.

“Very sorry, sirs, I’ll make sure he doesn’t leave my side again.”

After scanning the papers and finding everything in order, the soldier snorts. “You’d best. Quite a handful, that one is.”

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Law’s heart pounding, he glares at the youth. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I could ask _you_ the same thing.”

Law glances around the square, realizing that they’re drawing attention. “We can’t talk here. Come with me.”

* * *

The youth sits in Law’s room, idly eating a meal brought up by a tavern staff member. Law makes sure the shutters are closed, that no one is standing by the door before he speaks. “You should be careful who you pick fights with,” Law says. “Raising a hand to the emperor’s guards in public is practically a death sentence.”

“Emperor?” The dark-eyed youth blinks in surprise. “What’s that all about?”

Law groans. “You don’t even know that much?”

“I haven’t been on the continent in years. Don’t know much about anything.”

He hums. “Right. You just felt entitled to pick a fight over food at the cost of your life?”

“Hey,” the youth scoffs. “Don’t make fun of food. You don’t eat, you can’t live. It’s always a battle to survive on that front.”

Laughing bitterly, Law replies, “I suppose that’s true. What’s your name then, _little brother_?”

“Luffy,” he stubbornly answers, “and I’ve got two big brothers already. That’s plenty.”

Law’s heart drops. “Luffy?”

“Yeah.”

Barely breathing, Law tears off his hat and scarf. “Luffy, I’m Law. Do you remember me?”

Dark eyes scan over Law’s form, noting the white patches on dark skin, more prevalent than they had been in the past.

A slow smile creeps over Luffy’s face. He drops his food back on the plate, throwing his arms around Law for a tight hug, greasy fingers and all. “Of _course_ I remember you. How could I forget?”

As soon as Luffy stops trying to squeeze Law’s spine out, the two of them sit back down, body language visibly relaxed. “If you weren’t on the continent before, how’d you wind up so far inland?”

“Me and my friends got caught stealing jewels on an island nearby. Went upstream, hitched a ride with a fisherman, then a caravan of merchants. Wound up here.” Luffy laughs loudly. “I’m not very good with directions.”

“Damn straight,” Law says, eliciting another round of laughter from his companion. “You picked a hell of a time to come back. Doflamingo’s taken over. The citizens of the continent are all under his thumb, patiently toiling away until they’re no longer useful and he disposes of them.”

“People keep saying Doflamingo this, and Donquixote that—who is this bastard?”

Law’s eyes widen. “Our old master. He’s the emperor.”

Luffy shakes his head. “I didn’t work at the manor, and I’ve never really been good with names. All I need to know is that he sucks, and loads of people want him dead, or at least that’s what they say behind closed doors. They seem awfully scared of him and his flunkies.”

“For good reason. He kills anyone who doesn’t submit to his whims. He thinks the world is his to lord over.”

“That means nobody's really free, then.”

“Unfortunately,” Law says, “you’re exactly right.” He sits in silence for a long moment before leaning back on his palms. “I have some business to take care of tomorrow, but I have a little time tonight. Tell me about what you’ve been up to.”

“Only if you do the same,” Luffy insists, smiling as he all-too-easily closes the gap between them, infringing on Law’s preciously-guarded personal space.

* * *

Aokiji, Corazon, and Sengoku all share a look of profound resignation.

Aokiji is the first to crack the stiff silence, reaching for a cigarette with a bitter smile. “You’re both so glum about breaking the law. Buckle up.”

Corazon groans. “Defecting now is a sign of rebellion. If we can’t find some way to procure assistance from outside of the continent, we’re finished.”

“How fun,” Aokiji drawls, reaching for a match. They have to board a ship to Dressrosa in a few minutes, so all three of them sit around and smoke in the meantime, watching the sun go down. Exhaling through his nose, he says, “You two say your goodbyes?”

Corazon shakes his head. He doesn’t want to write Law that kind of letter, and he doesn’t think his son would read it, anyways. He’s busy. If they manage to return to the continent safely, Corazon will have good news, and an active political stance that they could agree on for the first time in years.

“Wife died last year,” Sengoku replies, eyes half-lidded and somber. “Haven’t heard from my best friend in over a decade, so I assume he died in the war.”

“Can’t believe that was only ten years ago,” Corazon muses. “You know, Aokiji, I still don’t know your name.”

Aokiji hums. “Kuzan. Never knew my family, and couldn’t be bothered to find out who they were. Honestly, I’m more used to being called Aokiji. How about you?”

Tapping his cigarette against the rim of an ashtray, Corazon says, “It’s Rocinante. You already know the rest of my story.”

Sengoku snorts “What, like how you used to trip over yourself all the time? Or how I taught you everything you know?”

At that, Aokiji leans forward a bit, interested, noting the way Corazon’s face flushes pink with embarrassment. “No, Admiral, about my brother.”

Waving him off, Sengoku continues to reminisce. “He wanted to join the military when he was six, noble heritage be damned. I didn’t have diplomatic duties in Donquixote territory very often, but there was a fort close to his manor in those days. He used to visit every winter solstice, bring me a gift, beg me to him train with my platoon. He’s been an informant since he was twelve because we were desperate. We would’ve taken just about anyone with all four of their limbs intact.” Sengoku grins. “Had a real fire in his spirit.”

Corazon rolls his eyes, slapping his ex-commanding officer on the arm. Sengoku has been like a father to him through his twenty-three years of service, equal parts stern and steadfast. His own father had been stabbed by his mother when he was five, who had since been put into a care facility for the rest of her days, thus effectively removed from the aristocracy. His older brother's strange upbringing of being coddled, worshipped, and molded into something otherworldly has never set right with him. “Now’s not the time to wax poetic,” Corazon mutters, blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth. He hears the clamor from the pier, a bell ringing to signal the arrival of a ship.

Aokiji stands up, stubbing out the end of his cigarette in the ashtray. “Any last words, gentlemen?”

“Godspeed,” Corazon starts.

“May true justice always prevail,” Sengoku finishes, the three of them saluting each other with pride.

* * *

Luffy’s swashbuckling adventures are captivating. Garbled tales of lush forests, a vastly uninhabited desert, snowy mountain peaks, and dozens of nights spent on dirty floors in a pile of snoring companions. He talks about his marksman, the chef, the navigator, the swordsman, the stowaways who had become his shipwright and his archaeologist. “We needed a doctor real bad a few years ago,” Luffy says, lazily throwing his head in Law’s lap. “Stopped offshore at a place called Reyer to save Nami. Unfortunately, nobody wanted to come with us. Though, to be fair, I guess we’ve built up a pretty bad reputation.”

Law barks out a laugh. “Yes. Even _I’ve_ heard of your crew’s exploits. The papers call you the vagabond bandits. All of them shy away from using the word _pirate_ , probably because they don’t want to scare people.” Before the war, the continental navy’s biggest problem had been wayward pirate crews jumping aboard, looting them and stealing their ships, or worse.

“Well, we don’t go around raping people or selling them,” Luffy hisses, pinching Law’s leg through the fabric of his trousers in warning.

“I never said you did,” Law winces, quietly shifting into a more comfortable position. It’s been a long time since he’s been so close to anyone, though he’d once been fond of taking naps huddled up with his friends in the dead of winter, all of them too poor to afford proper furs to keep them warm.

It’s nice to be trusted so easily, especially when he’s in the middle of enemy territory.

Eventually, Luffy feels as though he’s exhausted his good stories, though Law certainly could’ve listened to him prattle on for another hour. He turns his dark, wide eyes up to the older man.

The years have changed both of them, Luffy no longer a tiny, spry thing. Law, too, looks more haunted, the bags under his amber eyes making him seem gaunt, though he doesn’t miss many meals.

“I had a lot to learn about the world after I left the manor,” Law says, absently toying with Luffy’s hair. It’s softer than he would expect for a tan, rough-skinned, seafaring man. “I became a doctor, and a damned good one. A few years back, I started up a rebel army with the eventual goal of killing the emperor.”

He tells Luffy about the grueling fights in the various cities he and Cora had traveled through, itching to prove himself capable against stronger and craftier opponents. The street brawls had shifted from a hobby to a habit until Law had stumbled over the half-dead body of a boy named Bepo.

A couple older boys had been picking on the white-haired, pale eyed boy. Perhaps he’d empathized with him in a way, two people labeled as freaks for the odd coloring of their skin, rescuing him from bullies who have since become two of Law’s best friends.

He’d discussed his dreams with them while hiding behind a dumpster at age seventeen, fanning the small spark in his heart into a flame. From there, he’d brought on Ikkaku, Jean Bart, Uni, and Clione, another group of youths from Rutherford, a city in Braville, the second largest country in the north.

When Luffy asks why they aren’t with him, Law goes still. “Long story,” he says once he feels calm enough to respond without getting worked up. “Listen, I hate to ask, but since you’re here, I could use your help. You any good in a fight?”

Luffy pouts. “If you’d’ve let me beat those guys up earlier, you could’a found out for yourself.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Law dryly replies, watching as Luffy peels himself off of his legs. “I’ll make it worth your while. Assuming we’re alive tomorrow, I’ll help you get to Sousborough. The capital is busy, and it’s your best shot at information from the southern barrier islands. Deal?”

The adolescent clasps Law’s hand, lips curled up in a wicked smile. “Deal.”

* * *

Luffy’s used to working with a lot more people and making a lot more noise. It suits Laws purposes just fine—the younger man is there to serve as a distraction, to take their attention off of him. When Law glances down from the rafters, he sees that Luffy is using their weapons against them, skillfully dodging under axes, maces, and clubs, using anything he touches like an extension of his arms. It’s beautiful, almost like watching a dance.

Law unsheathes his sword, aiming for the chest or the throat with every thrust. His face is covered, but he can’t take any chances. All of this will be for nothing if Doflamingo can identify the key person behind the concentrated attacks to his supply chain.

In the quieter portion of the building, there are sets of keys hanging along a wall, ostensibly leading to the cells encaging their living wares. He doesn’t know where any of them lead, so he grabs the whole lot, grinding the heel of his boot into the throat of the hardy guardsman sputtering on the ground until his chest stops rising.

Another room full of toadies, then another. The layout of the upper floor is a monstrosity, and Law knows he doesn’t have much time. He can’t expect Luffy to hold his own against more than two or three people charging at him in waves.

He stumbles into the communications room with blood running down his arm – some idiot had charged at him with a splintered piece of wood and a handful of nails. He’s dead now, but the attack had been more alarming than anything, a swift movement from Law’s blind spot on the left side.

Frantically looking for something, for anything, Law chalks it up as a wash within five minutes. Someone bursts out of a door to his right, and he doesn’t react in time—a curved blade dips into the skin of Law’s thigh, taking a huge chunk of skin with it as the owner of said weapon pulls back. Law retaliates with a snarl, exchanging weak parries until the other combatant trips, giving him a lucky break. He doesn’t hesitate, mercilessly striking the man in the heart.

Law has to pause to rip his coat, doing everything he can to cover his fresh wound. The pain makes him unfocused, but he powers through it, planning their escape. Since he can still put pressure on his leg and walk, he knows his nerves haven’t been severed, that the damage is mostly cosmetic. _All the knowledge in the world wouldn't keep it from hurting like a bitch,_ he thinks sardonically, fingers trembling as he rifles through his pockets.

He dumps a small satchel full of damp charcoal on the floor, reaching for a match. He strikes it against the side of the box, watching as the nitroglycerin-covered fuel burns furiously.

“Code red,” Law shouts, his signal to Luffy that they have to get the hell out of dodge. As if to punctuate his words, something behind him collapses, the sound of crashing wood causing Doflamingo’s goons to look up and panic. “I’m throwing down a set of keys. Help me open all the cages you can.”

“Got it,” Luffy says, elbowing someone out of the way to ensure that he has the space to grab the ring.

Law slices through those aiming for Luffy’s back as he jumps off of the staircase, chest heaving with exhaustion. They barely manage to open five holding cells before the ceiling begins to collapse, smoke filling the hall. Dozens overrun the guards in their hurry to get out, and Law apologetically throws the key ring he has to those inside. “We have to go,” he murmurs, pulling Luffy away from the bars while they’re still cool. In a matter of minutes, the heat will flood the building.

“There’s too many people left,” Luffy rasps, coughing as the first wave rolls off of the flames from the upper floor.

“I know,” Law says, wincing as the pain shoots up his leg again. “But if we stay here, _we’ll_ die. We did everything we could.”

Luffy bites his lips, tears welling up in his eyes. They quickly hobble to the entrance of the building, watching as the elderly and the children struggle to keep pace with the able-bodied. Before it’s too blazingly bright for them to see anything, the hostages manage to open two more cells, climbing over the workbenches and the towering pallets stacked high with lumber and sheet metal to get out.

Law hardens his heart as he tugs Luffy along by the wrist, listening to the quiet sobs of his companion with a grimace. They make their way out of town through the sewers, grabbing their belongings before resurfacing outside of the city center, the sound of the military shouting for help and begging for people to help bring up more water from the wells, lest the whole city be swallowed in flames.

* * *

Luffy’s quiet as Law sews himself back together, sweat rolling down his back as he wills his fingers to stay steady. He passes Law water and fresh rags when the older man asks him to, watching the process in a haze.

When Law’s finished, he grabs a roll of gauze from his kit and patches himself up, doing his best to keep from passing out. Fully aware that there’s a conversation they need to have, Law lays down and sighs, adrenaline coursing through his veins. “I told you it would be a dangerous operation,” Law murmurs lowly. “That people could die.”

“I _know_ ,” Luffy replies, fists clenched in the fabric of his trousers. “I’m not blaming you for anything. I just feel bad. I don’t like it when innocent people get hurt.” Law doesn’t say anything in response because he doesn’t know what else to say. He feels equally guilty about his lack of preparation. He hadn’t even gotten any new information about other warehouses, which had been one of the main reasons he’d insisted on going this alone. “You do stuff like this all the time, so you’re probably hurting more than I am.”

Law huffs bitterly. “I don’t have time to dwell on those sorts of things.”

“That’s why I’m dwelling _for_ you,” Luffy replies, stretching his arms, offering Law a soft, sad smile. “It’s a nasty thing, taking away people’s freedom, treating them like property.” A fury seeps into Luffy’s eyes then, white-hot and scathing, so raw that Law reels back for a moment. “You said the emperor was behind all this, right?”

Law nods.

Exhaling through his nose with a rancid scowl, Luffy says, “Then let’s find my friends and go kill him.”

Law can’t help being impressed. Luffy’s only a teenager, not yet seventeen, and he says the treacherous words like they’re the simplest fact in the world. Something Law himself is reluctant to say aloud, afraid that divulging such a secret with anyone outside of his circle will get him hung, that the military might use his corpse to make an example out of anyone foolish enough to stand against the emperor.

The words fill him with hope, and he reaches out to shake Luffy’s hand, teeth glistening in the sunlight. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for joining me yet again on this wild ride, and have a lovely day! ♡♡♡
> 
> ✧tumblr: **[@quillifer](https://quillifer.tumblr.com/)**  
>  ✧twitter: **[@quillifer](https://twitter.com/quillifer)**


	5. act v

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updated maps >>> [[worldwide](https://flic.kr/p/2j2HyCa)] + [[continental nations/areas only](https://flic.kr/p/2j2EVYV)] + [[donquixote territory as of c4](https://flic.kr/p/2j2K9ni)] + [[trade routes/raids as of c4](https://flic.kr/p/2j2K9ht)]. onward to the second half of the fic! ♡♡

The air is thick in the throne room, Kyros and the other attendants wearing carefully blank faces as the man with a thick cape strolls down the carpet.

King Riku’s daughters, Scarlett and Viola, are in their chambers, hidden away just in case Doflamingo decides to cause a scene. He’s refused the emperor their hands for years now, and he doesn’t intend to give up his stance on that, especially since his eldest has recently mentioned her infatuation with his finest knight.

The blonde and his chancellor stop at the bottom of the steps, refusing to bow, as is their custom. Riku holds back the urge to twitch and snarl at Doflamingo, maintaining an air of composure for what is likely to be his final act of negotiation as the ruler of this barely-independent nation. He knows what’s become of the continent. He knows what this evil man does to those who stand in his way.

“The mines have been very unproductive this year,” Doflamingo finally says, tapping his scepter on the floor. “Your people have begun refusing to pay taxes on imported goods, and there’s been an awful decline in the amount of product arriving at my ports. Awful shame, isn’t it?”

In the previous year, Doflamingo had tied the king’s hands, preventing him from seeking outside assistance with their fieldwork. Furthermore, almost all agricultural pursuits had come to a halt, what with the Donquixote Empire’s demands for more weapon-building resources. They’re poor and starving. It comes as no surprise to the king that their export rates have been subpar, that the people can’t _afford_ to pay their taxes.

“Given the terms that your nation set in our latest trade agreement,” Riku replies, “they’re doing everything in their power to provide materials and offer payments, sir.” Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Kyros squaring his jaw, sensing the animosity that’s practically oozing out of Doflamingo’s pores.

“It’s not enough,” Doflamingo says. The guardsmen closest to the door all turn, the sound of gunfire putting them on high alert. “I’m not really the type to listen to excuses, you know.”

More shots are fired from what sounds like the east wing of the castle and Kyros snarls—the girls' rooms are that way. “Have you no honor?” Riku yells, granting his knight permission to storm off and go to their aide. “You’d go this far just to seize this dying nation by the throat?”

Doflamingo moves forward, easily evading an openly broadcasted attack by another of the king’s men. Using the steel-toe of his boot, he breaks the man’s knuckles and puts his heel on the arm of the throne, grimly smirking at the king, who refuses to cower. “Your country wouldn’t be in tatters if you would’ve just _given it to me,_ but I'm a benevolent ruler. I’ll give you one last chance. Sign the papers and I’ll call off the attack.”

Riku glowers, mentally weighing his options.

“Hurry up,” the blonde says, pointing a gun at the king’s temple while Trebol picks the surrounding guardsmen off like flies with his flintlock pistol. “You don’t have much time.”

* * *

— **_Four Months Earlier_** _—_

Law attempts to scribble a messy letter to his friends when they’re three days away from Loguetown, hoping that the code he’s chosen is still relevant, that Ikkaku is still around if Bepo, Shachi, or Penguin need help.

It’s difficult to focus with Luffy bouncing around, ready to leap out of the window at any given moment, but he can’t say he blames the young man. He also hates sitting around doing nothing, but he knows how important it is that they rest while they can.

When Law’s finished, he pays the mailman a little extra to encourage him to move swiftly. The fellow tips his head, spurring his horse into action.

On the first leg of their journey to Sousborough, Law focuses on their recovery. Luffy’s easy to take care of. He has a range of scrapes and scratches on his arms, all easily cleaned up with alcohol and bandaged quickly.

Law, on the other hand, has to even his strides with a crutch that he purchases at a small woodworking shop along the way, cooling his leg off with fresh water in the evenings. After four days, he determines that the scar is healing well enough to ditch the aid, which is for the best, since he realizes that they need to steal a horse.

Law had spent a huge chunk of his money loaning a ride to Loguetown. Though he’d returned the mare to a stable in the city and gotten some of his deposit back, he figures he’ll have to buy a small boat when they get to the southeastern harbor, especially since Luffy refuses to liquidate his assets. He swears that his navigator will have his head if he pawns the jewels off to a broker without her input.

“Whatever,” Law mutters as Luffy rants, rolling his eyes. He’s already made his peace with the young man’s obnoxious stubbornness. Law’s thrown his lot in with Luffy now, come hell or high water, and if they manage to find Luffy’s companions before briefly sailing off of the continent, it’s an added bonus for Law. The more people they available have to attack Doflamingo's territory, the better.

It’s a nightmare to jump onto a horse’s back with no stirrups because his leg hurts like shit, but Law manages it, holding his hand out for Luffy to take as they ride off in the middle of the night, the stable owners yelling at them, their watchdogs barking furiously in the distance. Giving credit where it’s due, Law admits that Luffy’s plan of throwing the dogs scraps of boar jerky from Luffy’s stash had been brilliant. It’d worked like a charm, keeping the canines distracted long enough to keep the particulars of their breaking-and-entering operation quiet.

Even on horseback, it takes two weeks to arrive at the border, and crossing it is no easy feat. The empire’s on high alert now, what with the rebel army sabotaging their warehouses and supply lines left and right.

Law is the one to hatch a cockamamie scheme this time, letting their horse wander up to the front gates. The horse is obviously tagged, so he rightfully expects the guards chalk it up as a case of lost property, dutifully reporting it to the military. It’s fairly common for wild stallions to break away from their stables and roam about, after all.

While the guards are preoccupied, Law and Luffy strip down to their skivvies, wading through the rapidly-flowing river that acts as a natural border for the colony. On the other side of the bank, they roll around in the dirt, sticking leaves into the thickly-woven fabric of their shirts. Then, they get down on all fours, dragging their bags along by the straps, vigilantly staying hidden in the shadows.

Once they get closer to the outskirts of a village, a quaint place a few miles south of the border, Law fashions a torch out of an old shirt and hunches his back a little. When Luffy asks why he’s doing that, he explains that people feel more comfortable when they can see each other at eye level.

He knocks on a woman’s door, selling her a sob story. Law explains that they’re refugees, that their homeland had been destroyed in a surprise attack organized by the rebel army and some military traitors. Law tells her that he has papers and that he’s a doctor, but they still have to file for full immigration rights in Sousborough. None of the inns will take them because they’re not citizens.

She’s moved to tears, opening the door for them while dabbing at her eyes. Luffy’s impressed by Law’s acting skills, carefully keeping his mouth closed until they have some privacy, then he starts to cackle like an absolute loon. Law can’t help smirking himself, though he quickly schools his expression and hushes Luffy. “Oh, shut up. Like you could’ve done any better.”

“Hell no,” Luffy brightly replies, a wide smile on his lips.

* * *

Sanji drops a folded newspaper down on the table, which makes the rest of his companions look up from the various things they’re doing.

Three months ago, they’d lost track of Luffy. It’s unprecedented for them to go so long without nary a word to each other, but they haven’t been on the mainland for very long, and it’s not as if any of them have a permanent address. No sense in trying to send each other letters when they’re nomads.

Amazingly, Usopp had been the first person to stumble upon a crewmate.

He’d found Robin first, the woman calmly sipping at a cup of tea in a café while waving for him to come and join her. He’d been relieved to find her alive and well after their somewhat successful, albeit disorderly, heist. She’d told him about rumors of Luffy sightings, that her most likely lead had been a man who’d offered to ferry the adolescent to the continent weeks ago. While cursing his friend out under his breath, Usopp had simply sighed, pleased to hear that Luffy was probably fine.

Nami had stumbled into Dagger Hills next, the small city-state encapsulated by the much larger and much more sinister Sousborough. Sanji, Franky, and Zoro take quite a bit longer to chance upon them, having apparently visited dozens of shops before finding the one Usopp and Robin frequent, a place that’s quickly become their favorite haunt.

Since they can’t leave until Luffy returns, or rather, they don’t _want_ to, they all slip into the city and gather information in their own ways. When Luffy finally wanders back, they’ll need to have the money to stock up a ship in record-time, and they need to know exactly what’s changed on the continent.

Eventually, Nami’s snooping lands them in trouble.

Franky’s made himself right at home with the local shipwrights, brawling and gambling with them in his downtime, slipping the navigator’s questions into conversations when he can manage it. The two of them conspire, trading notes at a bar where she waits tables and mixes drinks.

Caught red-handed, her pulse races when a stocky gentleman grabs her by the wrist, no questions asked. The proprietor of the establishment turns a blind eye to one of his girls being kidnapped, and it’s through sheer luck that Franky catches sight of her on his way to deliver his daily report, following her captors through the backstreets.

Fortune favors him, because it’s the time of night that Robin, Usopp, and Sanji prefer to run errands. He drags them along, instructing them to stay silent. He listens for Nami’s cries with a stern scowl, determined to jump out and fight to get her back when the time is right.

She kicks and screams, clawing at the man’s chest and attempting to aim for his groin, to no avail. Eventually, the man lets her go, dropping her so she lands on her butt at the entrance of a cove. Franky, Usopp, Sanji, and Robin jump out then, armed to the gills with their personal preferred weapons, but they’re quickly surrounded by a rowdy group of scoundrels.

A man with freckles on his face and a range of bright tattoos up his arms and across his back steps forward, scowling deeply. “Deuce,” he says, folding his arms over his chest. “Who’re they supposed to be?”

* * *

Doflamingo idly swirls a glass of wine around, a vein throbbing in his temple. “Giolla,” he starts, doing his best to keep his temper under control. “Remind me again why it’s taking so long to send troops to Braville?”

The woman, a fairly new addition to his team of advisors, pushes up her glasses primly. “We had a force ready to deploy from Quirrick, but there have been recent reports of a possible slave uprising brewing. With so many of our production facilities currently out of commission, we can’t make new weapons very quickly. With Dressrosa slowing down their export rate, Caesar’s experiments with various types of gasses have come to a halt. At this rate, our economy could very well collapse, sir.”

Squeezing the glass until the stem breaks, Doflamingo lets wine flow down his arms alongside blood from the tiny glass shards, his internal temperature rising. “The slave trade is still booming, and I have buyers all over this country dying to spend their money on weapons that are nearly out of stock. The idea that we’re being held up by a bunch of _miscreants_ is insulting.” Holding his arm out in a sweeping motion, he issues a command. “Handle the business up in the north. Quiet the rebellions in Quirrick and Hazard, if there are any to be had, and be quick about it. Make examples out of them. Am I being clear?”

Giolla bows deeply. “Of course, m’lord. I’ll handle things right away.”

Deploying his troops will take away some of the prowess of the capital, but it’s a necessary evil. Everything will be worth it if, at the end of the day, he quashes out the very idea that these mongrels could try to ruin the empire by cutting off the warmongering business he’s built up the continent’s prowess with.

A little overhead cost will go a long way, and killing the rebel forces will result in a huge loss of morale if Giolla’s people can somehow manage to smoke out their sneaky little top members.

* * *

“ _Ow_.” Luffy winces as Law tugs on his ear, a fussy frown on his face.

“Stop pulling at your stitches,” Law warns him, brow furrowed in disdain. “I don’t have any more catgut, and you’re more likely to get an infection if I have to use makeshift materials.”

A week ago, Luffy had gone out hunting alone, narrowly escaping being mauled by a bear. With autumn briskly transitioning into winter, Law had warned him not to go too close to the caves, but the reckless young man hadn’t listened, something he’s beginning to realize is inherent to Luffy’s nature.

Whatever glorious star Luffy had been born under has protected him so far. The mother bear hadn’t done her worst, had simply swatted at Luffy in an effort to keep him away from her cubs instead of attacking him for food. His left bicep had been scarred deeply, but her claws hadn’t cut him down to the bone, and Luffy hasn’t complained about difficulty moving it since the first day. Still, it’s cause for concern. They’re running low on supplies, and Law needs Luffy to _behave_ himself if they’re to get to Plymouth, the capital of Sousborough, in one piece.

Disregarding Luffy’s tendency to go looking for trouble, their month-and-a-half long journey isn’t so bad. It’s the rainy season, dipping just past premier harvest time, so the two of them are forced to seek shelter in coves and under canopies, huddling together to conserve heat. Law doesn’t spend a lot of time talking, mostly because he spends the evenings trapped in his head.

It’s nice to have company in his darker moments, where he feels the nightmares creeping in closer, the thoughts of plans gone horribly awry, his friends’ blood dripping down his arms, as if he had been the one to put them under the knife and pull out their hearts himself.

“Hey,” Luffy says at times like those, extraordinarily attentive to his mood swings, “don’t do that. You look upset.”

Law always rolls his eyes and huffs. “Can’t help it.”

Luffy pulls funny faces and pries Law for stories about warmer times when he gets like that. Law doesn’t know what it is about Luffy’s sunny disposition that helps him recall the fond memories of days spent training with Cora, making dinner with him on the road, throwing dice with Shachi and Penguin after arm wrestling. It’s nice to talk about them, even if he won’t say their names; it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Determined as he is to put an end to this cruel cycle of terror that Doflamingo has wrought upon the continent, even he thinks it’s a shame that these moments of peace have to come to an end. He only hopes he can keep Luffy out of harm’s way when it comes down to the ugly business he has to take care of, because he certainly doesn’t expect to walk into the viper’s pit and come out unscathed.

It’s a soupy day when they finally arrive in Plymouth, a thick fog looming on the horizon. Luffy drags Law to the front gates with an easygoing smile, confident in Law’s ability to get them into the bustling city.

He plays one of his usual acts, the simpering, wandering doctor in need of supplies. Law keeps his face covered while he shows the men his papers, putting his hand on the small of Luffy’s back to broadcast that he’s a young man in dire need of assistance, _if you wouldn’t mind hurrying this along_ , he says.

The guards are won over by the show, tripping over themselves to lead Law and Luffy to an inn where they can rest so the doctor can do his job. Luffy pulls his arm out of the unnecessary sling as soon as the door’s closed, sticking his tongue out at the longwinded guards.

They spend several days lurking in taverns and stopping by shops, Luffy not so much doing reconnaissance as he is befriending almost every person he meets. Law is much more discerning, fully aware of his status as a wanted man.

After eight days of no luck, Law sighs. Luffy throws himself across Law’s back, yawning widely. “This is boring, Torao.”

Law rolls his eyes at the nickname. He doesn’t mind it, honestly, but he has a reputation to maintain. “Suck it up. It could take a while before we find a lead.”

A thought must suddenly occur to the young man, because he leaps up, nearly jabbing his elbow into Law’s lumbar spine. “Alright, let’s spar!”

Law rubs his back and glares at Luffy. “It’s the middle of the night.”

Luffy beams. “Which means it’s unlikely that anyone will see us. C’mon, I’m getting rusty.”

“What you’re gonna get is my foot up your ass,” the older man gripes, shivering as a breeze rolls in through the window. “I keep telling you to be careful. The human body is resilient, but you’re harder on yours than most.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luffy says, pulling Law to his feet. “You’re probably itching for a fight, too. Between your leg and my arm, we’ve gotten out of shape.”

“Speak for yourself,” Law replies, rising to the jibe with ferocity. “I’ve done the proper rehabilitation, and I never stopped maintaining my form. I’ll wipe the floor with you.”

“Better put your money where your mouth is, then,” Luffy taunts, slipping his shoes on and dashing outside.

* * *

It’s freezing cold outside, the high winds threatening to bring sleet or hail in a day or two. Law forces Luffy to join him for a warm-up jog before trading blows, promising to use bare-fists only, Luffy’s preferred method of fighting.

When Law deems them appropriately prepared, he finds a small meadow just outside of the city’s tree-line, crafting a sort of impromptu ring for the match. “Do your worst,” he goads, watching as Luffy’s nostrils flare and he charges openly.

Though they’ve only fought two or three times before this, Law knows he has to keep himself out of grappling range. When it comes to evading clutches and squirming out of holds, Luffy is the champion. Thus, he has to rely on his kicks, using his height to his advantage, rolling Luffy to the ground and aiming for his injured arm.

Luffy doesn’t mind the discourtesy—they both know their enemies won’t be fair, so preparing for the worst is crucial.

The first bout ends in Law’s favor, where he sweeps Luffy’s legs when he’s unbalanced, sending him falling sideways to the ground. Luffy manages to tug one of Law’s arms behind his back in their second bout, attempting to slam him down back-first, but Law elbows him in the ribcage and breaks out, winding up in a leg-lock in reply.

Luffy lets up when Law taps out, knowing that he’s lost. No point in getting choked out if they both still have the energy to continue.

After an hour, Law is deliriously tired, so he calls their session to a close, 7-6 in his favor. Luffy groans and whines, demanding a rematch. “Maybe tomorrow,” the doctor says, wiping sweat off of his brow. “Don’t forget why we’re here. If we figure out where your friends are, all bets are off.”

Luffy snickers, leaning into Law as they wearily amble back to town. “Mmhmm. I know.”

* * *

A girl comes knocking on their door four days later, expression urgent. Law groggily opens it, hiding a dagger behind his back. “Yes?”

“A redheaded woman and a man with three swords on his hilt. Word on the street is you’re looking for those two. That true?” The girl looks ready to bolt, nervous beyond belief. It puts Law on high alert. If she’s scared of something, or someone, they’re all in danger.

Law nods, carefully glancing out of his peripheral to see if there’s anyone waiting to ambush them outside of the inn or at the bottom of the stairs, but the coast appears to be clear.

“There’s an independent city-state a week away from here on foot if you go through the flatlands,” the girl says, struggling to keep her eyes open. “Nasty lot residing in Dagger Hills. Can’t guarantee your people are safe. Rumor has it that they’ve been asking too many questions, poking their noses where they don’t belong. You didn’t hear it from me.”

Frowning, Law sticks out his free hand, aiming to take her temperature. The girl flinches away before he can, not that he can blame her. “I’m a doctor.” The flushed pallor of her skin and her unfocused gaze reeks of toxins in the blood. He wonders if this is her last act of rebellion, managing to give two vagabonds the information they so desperately need while she’s inches from death.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll learn from their mistake and keep your mouth closed. Hurry up and skip town. Can’t promise the guards won’t follow me here and kill us all.”

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Law quickly rouses Luffy so they can pack their bags and sneak out of the back door, muttering out a quick explanation of what’s happening.

He digs through his things before shutting the case where he keeps his vials, holding out a cork-plugged tube for the young woman. It’s an antidote for arsenic, the most frequently-used toxin that Law knows of. She frowns, rightly concerned about what he’s given her. “Either take it or don’t. I’m just trying to repay the favor. If you’ve been poisoned, it should at least help alleviate the symptoms. Won’t be pretty, but you’ll probably live.”

There’s not much to lose, given that the poison will certainly kill her if left unchecked, so she downs the whole thing in one gulp and dashes into the shadows, hopefully into some hovel where she can have a few days of peace to recuperate.

Luffy blearily watches her run off until they can’t see her anymore, until she’s just a silhouette in the distance. He just _cares_ so much, and he gets attached so easily. It makes Law wonder how on earth he’s managed to survive in their absolute shithole of a world for so long.

* * *

Dagger Hills is warmer than Plymouth, but only just. The girl hadn’t been lying about the rough-and-tumble types populating the city—the two of them receive plenty of odd looks, what with dirt all over the new clothes Law had purchased for them last week.

Somebody tries to sneak up on them, but they’re unprofessional. Luffy has the instincts of a hound, and Law’s been in enough sticky situations to smell trouble early on. Both of them pin their attackers to the ground, Law pressing the sheath of his sword to his would-be assassin’s throat.

“Either somebody has a hit out on us or you thought we’d be easy to rob. Talk,” Law says, slipping the blade from its scabbard with narrowed eyes.

The mousy little man holds up his hands in surrender, tears welling up. “We overheard Whitebeard’s men say that they were keeping an eye out for a kid with a scar under his left eye. Thought we’d get the jump on them, manage to make a profit by holding y’all hostage.”

He leans back, maintaining a firm grip on his sword’s hilt. With snot dripping down his face, the two-bit thug murmurs his apologies and backs away. Similarly, Luffy lets their other attacker go with a scowl, fists balled at his side in case they change their minds and decide to rev up a fight.

“Whitebeard?” Law asks. He usually keeps tabs on all the dissenting powers on the continent, not that there are many these days. However, the north is his domain—it doesn’t shock him to find out that Doflamingo has kept information from rebellious factions of the south suppressed.

“He’s a burly old geezer who lives near the caves. Practically runs this town, and he’s not real fond of the emperor. Emperor seems too busy to come this far out and snuff the old guy out, so we get to live wild and free. On the off chance that the Sousborough goons try to sneak in here and cause a ruckus, we pay ‘em to keep their grubby noses outta our business or kick their asses so badly that they’re too ashamed to report their losses to the imperial task force.”

Amber eyes widen. Anybody who stands up to the emperor has Law’s respect, even if this so-called gang is simply trying to protect their borders and interests. “How do we get to the caves from here?” Regardless of Law's new aim of attempting to negotiate with this Whitebeard character and use him as an ally in his crusade, Whitebeard's men are obviously looking for Luffy. Best to get the jump on them before somebody smarter than these two tries to take them down.

The second man points to the shoreline. “Head to the east, then there’ll be a series of craggy rocks you can’t miss. I wouldn’t recommend it though, sir. They say he’s crazy. That he eats men alive.”

Luffy snorts. “Who cares? We can handle ourselves.”

Law smirks. “What he said.”

* * *

About a mile away from the caves, Luffy spies someone struggling to put a body up on a gurney. Law thinks about grabbing his elbow to stop him from running off, but has long since learned that trying to stop Luffy from doing anything is an exercise in futility.

The minute that the lad sees Luffy waving to him, asking what’s wrong, he sniffles. “He’s hurt. I already patched up his wounds, but I can’t seem to stop him from throwing up.”

When Luffy looks down, he’s briefly stunned, then suddenly frantic. “This is my friend.” He turns around, panic making his eyes wide, pleading with Law. “Torao, you have to help him.”

Clicking his tongue in frustration, Law drops his bag, looking for his gloves. He slides them on, eyes roving over the collection of dried herbs he keeps. Turning to the young fellow, he barks out a series of questions, trying to understand where they’re at.

Abdominal rupture. Profuse bleeding from the pectoral area down to his hip. The sutures are exceptionally neat and none of the bile has blood in it—Law surmises that the man’s stomach acid level is too high, and while his body is trying to repair the damage, he just can’t keep food or liquor down. They have to control it quickly or he could get dysentery.

Law checks his pulse, the man’s pupils, and his tonsils. Horribly inflamed, but it's not life-threatening.

“I have to give him a suppository,” Law coolly says. “His throat is too irritated to force him to swallow.”

The adolescent and Luffy nod accordingly. Law instructs the stranger to help him grind things to a paste with his mortar and pestle, dripping water into the bowl to ease the process.

Once he’s prepped the man’s backside, he slips the bundle in, slippery medicine wrapped in a light film of sheep intestines. They’ll pass easily once the nutrients have been disbursed. “Do you live around here?” When the adolescent shakes his head, Law grunts. “We have to find shelter. You need to use a dropper to give him liquids every hour.”

Wiping tears out of his eyes with a determined expression, the young man nods. “Alright.”

The three of them knock on doors until someone agrees to let them stay for a few days. Luffy slumps against the wall in relief, a tired smile on his lips. Law goes to wash himself down and encourages the other youth do the same, making sure they keep themselves clean.

“Sorry about all that,” the stranger says, taking off his hat and bowing his head. “Thank you for the help.”

“S’fine,” Law murmurs, toweling his hair down, idly toying with his bangs. He needs a haircut something fierce. “We were just passing by.”

“Don’t mind him,” Luffy snickers. “He doesn’t like for people to think that he’s nice.”

“ _Oy_ ,” Law snarls, pinching Luffy’s cheek until he begs for mercy.

“I’m Luffy, by the way, and that’s Law.” Law digs his knuckles into Luffy’s head for carelessly giving away their real names. He slaps Law’s arm in retaliation.

The youngest member of their trio turns and blinks up at them, really looking at Law for the first time. “That skin condition’s really rare. I only remember seeing one other person with it.” He goes to pull a notebook out of his thick coat, flipping through the early pages until his eyes light up. “Vitiligo, right?”

Law turns to him with a disgruntled scowl. “That’s right.” He finally releases Luffy and pulls up his sleeves. “Once I hit my twenties, the spread slowed down a lot.”

Scribbling away furiously, the strange little medic hums to himself. “Case two—Law.” Coming to his senses, the youth puts down his pen, stumbling over himself to bow profusely. “Sorry, I’m Chopper. I’m a doctor too, but I don’t have much experience yet. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

The name is unique enough that it sparks something in Law’s memory. “You don’t happen to be from Drum, do you?”

“I am,” Chopper glumly replies, a dark frown on his face. “I fled the country two years ago with my caretaker, Doctorine.” A bittersweet smile graces his lips, expression somber. “We got separated in Midway, but she told me to get as far away from the capital of the empire as possible, so here I am.”

“You’re probably too young to remember,” Law says, “but I met you, once. You can keep it in your files as the original case. This Doctorine character wouldn’t happen to be Dr. Kureha, would it?” It’s been ages since he’s thought about that wily old coot. Hearing her name is a comfort, even if Chopper isn’t sure that she’s still alive.

“That’s her.” Chopper beams. “I’m glad you’re okay. I didn’t see you at the hall a whole lot after that, but everybody used to mention seeing you at the market. Doctorine wondered what’d happened to you, especially since you and that clown-guy always seemed so secretive.”

Law hums. That had been fairly astute of the good doctor. After all, he and Cora had been terrified of running into Vergo in those days, but they’d deemed it safer to stay in one place for a while than to risk traveling and crossing paths with him on the road.

“See?” Luffy sunnily flashes Law a smile. “It was somebody you knew. It all turned out okay.”

He doesn’t know what the hell makes Luffy so blindingly optimistic, but his luck certainly seems to be holding, so Law lets the remark pass.

Later that evening, the swordsman that Luffy calls Zoro wakes up. Chopper instructs him to sit up slowly, feeding him a thin broth that the master of the house had kindly agreed to make for the patient.

Voice raspy, he croaks out details to Luffy, telling him that Whitebeard’s men have taken Nami and the rest in for questioning. They don’t seem to be hurt, or at least that’s what Zoro’s heard. When Luffy angrily demands to know if they’re the ones who had beaten Zoro up so badly, the swordsman shakes his head. Apparently, he’d gone back to his headhunting ways while they’d been waiting for Luffy to turn up, and he’d simply bitten off more than he could chew.

Law and Luffy make plans to go to the caves early in the morning, hoping to catch them off-guard. Zoro says that they’ll be outnumbered, offering to come with them and help, to which Law and Chopper both tell him _absolutely not_ , because he’s in no condition to fight. He’d be more of a hindrance than a help, the doctors say.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Chopper assures them. “Whenever you find a safehouse, let me know—I’ll make sure he gets there alive and well.”

Law exhales slowly. _You’re getting one step closer to the goal_ , he thinks, willing his pulse to remain steady. _Don’t rush this._

Sensing his brewing foul mood, Luffy reaches out for Law’s hand.

 _Don’t think about what could go wrong,_ Law thinks, absently squeezing Luffy’s hand in reply, assuring the younger man that he’s grounded, that he hasn’t receded too far into the murky depths of his mind.

* * *

It’s quiet at dawn, the cave shadows gaping and drab.

They face little-to-no resistance as they sidle up to the entrance of Whitebeard’s territory. Law grows perturbed; with no lookouts on duty, that means it’s likely that their entire group could be lying in wait, that they’re confident enough to take such a risk.

Sure enough, Luffy dodges a kick to the head as soon as they cross the threshold of the foremost cave, lowering himself to his haunches to flip his opponent onto the ground.

Law hears gunfire and ducks, but there’s someone shouting in the distance—whatever the distraction is, he’ll take the opportunity for what it is, pointing the tip of his blade to Luffy’s attacker. Before he can behead the man, the same person comes forward, arms raised in surrender.

“Don’t kill him,” the man sternly says, less of a request than a command. “We don’t want to fight you.”

Blowing his bangs out of his face, Law snorts. “Could’ve fooled me.”

As he steps out of the shadows, Luffy’s expression shifts from adrenaline-fueled fury to immense delight, a change that occurs so quickly that it gives Law whiplash. “Ace?”

Lazily saluting Luffy, the freckle-faced man grins. “Hey there, l’il bro. Long time no see.”

* * *

Breakfast with Whitebeard’s gang is a raucous affair. Everyone elbows each other for first dibs on the meat, while the cooks, Thatch and Sanji, who’s just visiting, attempt to keep the unruly heathens under control.

Nami, Usopp, Franky, and Robin are all around, having made themselves at home with these ruffians. Apparently, Whitebeard’s crew had discovered that they had been asking too many questions about the emperor, believing them to be spies. After holding them for an extended interrogation, they’d pried the truth of the matter from Usopp, who had tearfully explained that they weren’t allies of the emperor, only a group of friends trying to find their captain and find a safe way to get to the capital of the continent.

Robin is the one to explain that they’d lost track of Zoro, and when Law tells them he’s safe, albeit injured, Luffy’s five present crew members breathe out a collective sigh of relief, tension oozing out of their shoulders.

Ace acts the de facto leader of his little group, sitting next to his brother so they can merrily swap stories. “Struck out on my own and attempted to start my own little rebel army, but pops wrangled me in and put me off the path to a rage-fueled death.” Slinging an arm over Luffy’s shoulder, he grins. “Never did figure out why this little snot tried to lie back at the manor, but I see now. He was tryin’ to keep things a secret for you.”

Law had almost forgotten all about that. “That’s why you ran away? Because you refused to tell the guards you saw me that night?”

Offended by the very idea, Luffy folds his arms over his chest, scowling at Law. “I made you a promise. I never break my promises.”

Law shakes his head in disbelief. It’s surreal, how serendipitous meeting Luffy had been, then and now.

After the brothers have had ample time to catch up, Law moves forward with his proposition. “Listen. I know it’s not your gang’s modus operandi, but I was hoping I could talk to your boss about starting a rebellion in Sousborough. My people have taken down six of his major warehouses, the smaller troops keep attacking them to cut off their supply lines. I’m going to sail to Dressrosa, one of his last strongholds for materials, with Luffy and his crew. If we can convince their king to take our side, we can shut down Doflamingo’s production of poison gas, and bring this whole empire toppling down.”

Ace hums, tilting his head to the side. “Sure, I’ll take you to the old man. Can’t promise he’ll listen, though. He’s stubborn that way.”

“That’s fine,” Law says. “The most he can do is tell me no.”

* * *

Whitebeard is a towering hulk of a man, both tall and muscular. He sits on a makeshift throne made of old crates and barrels, one foot on his knee and a guandao spear in his right hand. Ace leans against a wall idly, watching the proceedings with one eye open.

“Join my crew,” Whitebeard says, baritone voice rumbling threateningly, “and I’ll consider your offer.”

Law grimaces, but before he can think up a clever excuse to deny him, Luffy blithely blurts out the words, “Not a chance.” As dire as his need for assistance is, Law can’t help agreeing with the sentiment, chuckling under his breath.

“And who do you think you are, huh? Using my people and my name for your do-or-die campaign without standing anything to gain.”

Luffy puts his hands on his hips. “The future king of the world.”

Ace and Law groan. They’d both absently hoped that he’d outgrown his absurd childhood dream, focusing on a slightly more feasible purpose in life, or at least had the sense to keep such thoughts to himself.

Whitebeard bursts into a huge fit of laughter, with Marco, Vista, and Izo unable to contain their amusement at his statement as well. “You’re a riot, kid. What’s your name?”

“Luffy.”

“Alright, Luffy. I don’t mind brazen brats. We’ll do it.” He sweeps his dark gaze over to Law. “You could stand to learn a thing or two from him.”

Law thinks Luffy’s far too outlandish to mimic, but if Whitebeard is willing to help him out because he likes Luffy’s gumption, Law will take it. Besides, he’s also decided to place his bets on Luffy’s peerless fortune. It’s all or nothing, now.

“So,” Ace asks, “What’s the plan?”

* * *

After several days of intense arguments and planning schematics, Ace and Marco decide to lead the charge on the northern border, while Namur and Izo help procure a ship for Luffy and his group. Law and Chopper help Zoro hobble up a ramp to get aboard, while Robin and Franky help Sanji carry rations and water into the storage area. Luffy invites Chopper to join them if he doesn't have anything keeping him in Dagger Hills and the young teen accepts. He thinks it sounds fun, being the doctor for a bunch of ragtag rebels doomed to get hurt.

“If the winds are in your favor,” Namur explains, “it should take you twelve days to get to Dressrosa.”

Nami nods, pointing to specific areas on the sea chart that she has questions about, making sure their navigation will be as smooth as possible. They’ve stopped at one of Dressrosa's harbors before in their winding travels, but it’s been ages since she’s used a map she didn’t make. A new island means a whole new slew of problems, not to mention whatever harebrained scheme Law seems to have cooked up for them that they’re sailing into.

They set off to a cheerful goodbye, those who had grown used to seeing the crew around town sad to see them go. Luffy waves at them in high spirits, though he doesn’t know them, simply pleased that they’d taken such good care of his friends.

On their first evening offshore, Zoro knocks on Law’s door, causing the doctor to look up from his notes as he grants the swordsman permission to enter.

He still looks tired from his surgery, flushed from the exertion of making his way to the other side of the ship with such heavy waves tossing them to and fro.

Zoro has a seat on Law’s cot, taking a moment to catch his breath. Law waits him out patiently, putting his pen down to signal that the other man has his full attention.

After a long lull of silence, he asks, “What are your intentions? With Luffy.”

Law frowns. “Excuse me?”

Zoro bares his teeth, digging his fingers into his knees as he speaks. “What’re you up to? I know your type. You’re a tactician, planning things two or three more steps ahead than anyone else. If you’re trying to set Luffy up for failure, I’ll take your head and throw you overboard before you can blink.”

Though Law doubts the validity of that statement, given that Zoro can barely stand up straight without wobbling, he understands the gravity of the situation. “I’m not setting him up for failure.” He folds his hands in his lap, keeping steady eye contact with the swordsman. “This is something I’ve been planning to do for ten years, and we crossed paths at an opportune time. He’s doing me a favor.”

“In exchange for _what_?”

Law sighs. “I have no idea what’s in it for him. Honor, maybe? Not likely. He’s not the glory-chasing type.”

Zoro snarls. “So you admit that you’re just using him.”

That’s not a false assumption, per se, but it certainly rubs Law the wrong way. “I don’t intend for my debt to go unpaid. Anything he asks of me, I’ll give it to him, but _he_ was the one who got pissed off when I told him that nobody on the continent could truly be free while Doflamingo was still alive. Luffy offered to help _me_ kill him, not the other way around.” He’d only asked for Luffy’s help in destroying one of the emperor’s warehouses.

An awkward pause settles between them before Zoro finally talks again. “Y’know, I used to be like you,” he says, his tone slightly self-immolative. “Living only for the sake of the mission.”

Though Law’s wary to know the answer, he finds himself asking, “What changed?”

“I met Luffy,” Zoro says, posture defensive. “He sees the world in a way that’s too weird for me to comprehend, but he wants it to be better. He’d put his life on the line to protect someone just because they smiled at him once. It makes me worried.”

Law nods, fully agreeing with him on that.

“That’s why I can see what’s happening,” Zoro adds, thumb pressed to the guard of his sword in warning. “I know the effect he has on people, and I know he’s gullible. He trusts you, and if you abuse his faith in you for any reason, I’ll kill you.”

“And what, pray tell, is supposed to be _happening_?” Law finally loses his patience, seeing red as he seethes. “I don’t know what I can say to make you believe that I’m doing everything I can to keep him safe. You obviously want some excuse for my actions, but I don’t have one.”

“You’re either a dirty liar,” Zoro hisses, digging his nails into Law’s shoulder, “or a damned fool.” Before Law can snap and push Zoro away, the swordsman lets go, slumping against the door with a heaving chest. “I believe you—for now. Don’t push your luck.”

Law watches Zoro shamble back to his quarters with a furrowed brow, unsure what the hell that was all about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you for joining me on the ride. it's been super fun to read all of your comments while powering through these last few chapter concepts!! ♡ i hope you'll enjoy it 'til the end! ♡♡
> 
> ✧tumblr: **[@quillifer](https://quillifer.tumblr.com/)**  
>  ✧twitter: **[@quillifer](https://twitter.com/quillifer)**


	6. act vi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a _teeny_ bit shorter than usual because it came to a good stopping place before the action ramps up again. enjoy!! ♡♡♡
> 
> maps: [[worldwide](https://flic.kr/p/2j2HyCa)] + [[continental nations/areas only](https://flic.kr/p/2j2EVYV)] + [[current donquixote territory]](https://flic.kr/p/2j2K9ni) \+ [[trade routes/raids as of c4](https://flic.kr/p/2j2K9ht)]

Shachi bursts into the office, chest heaving. Bepo nervously turns around, worried about what kind of horrible news his friend might deliver.

“Call for a meeting,” the redhead pants. “Ikkaku decrypted a letter Jean gave her last week. It’s from Law.”

* * *

Only ten of the eighteen officers are able to make it when everything’s said and done, the remaining members of their team off doing fieldwork. Two troops had been specifically deployed to assist with border patrol in Braville, helping the guerilla groups in the neighboring country keep the emperor’s soldiers out.

Bepo paces idly, making wide sweeping gestures as he points to the map he’s drawn on the chalkboard. “Before we get started, I do have some good news—the captain is alive, and he managed to take down the largest warehouse in the middle of the continent.”

Everyone claps, clamoring for a celebration later. The burly young man holds up a hand to quiet them, unable to keep a wry smile off his face as well.

“He says he’s seeking the assistance of King Riku, the sovereign of the island across the sea.” Bepo creates a dotted line from a rough outline of the landmass to the Junkyard. “Assuming that his negotiations are successful, we need to prepare to invade the empire’s capital in four months.”

Uni raises a hand while the rest of them scribble notes and craft various plans of attack. “Where will we get our weapons from?” So far, most of them have been able to scrape by with swords made from scrap metal or stolen from gravesites. If they’re to go into an all-out war, they need firepower.

Clione chimes in. “We have a contact in the east named Crocus, says he knows how to get ahold of some real heavy-duty stuff.”

Penguin adds, “There’s a proprietor of a mine in the southeast who feeds his pipeline. Says with the emperor losing his footing, he can get away with giving us more supplies.”

It’s too early to get elated, because the battle’s not yet won, but they can all feel hope springing up in their chests. What Law has started, they’re determined to finish, and their spirits are lifted by the knowledge that they’ll be reunited with their boss on the shores of freedom.

* * *

“Gather ‘round,” Law says, attracting the attention of the organized types on the ship. Chopper and Luffy are busy fishing on the deck’s rear, working on keeping their food storage decently stocked as they head towards uncharted territory, not that Law would’ve expected Luffy to listen to him, regardless.

Zoro looks much better; he’s not fully healed, but he’ll live, and he’s strong enough to fight if the need arises. Chopper has been his attending physician most of the ride, mostly because Law gets the impression that Zoro would cut his hand off if he tried to check the swordsman’s pulse.

The rest of Luffy’s crew nods and listens to Law’s plan without raising any grievous questions, realizing that the majority of what needs to be done is politics. Law doesn’t like the fact that so much of his knowledge of Dressrosa stems from his past education under Doflamingo’s watchful eye, but even he can admit it’s a boon at a time like this. “The emperor gets most of his resources from the country’s southeastern ports, taking his products to a bunch of state-of-the-art research facilities just west of the continental capital.”

Franky hums. “Wouldn’t it be safer to stay away from there, then?”

“Right.” Law looks up at Nami, who’s been working on updating her charts as they sail. “There’s a little island to the west of the mainland called Green Bit. We’ll drop anchor there. There’s a bridge connecting the two areas. It’ll take four hours to cross by foot, but it’s better than putting ourselves at risk.”

Robin asks the next question. “Do you think it would be safer to split up? Just in case we need to get away quickly?”

Law shakes his head, the gold of his small earrings catching in the warm light of the sunset. “Normally, I’d say yes, but I don’t know what we’re walking into. Doflamingo’s been trying to bring Dressrosa to heel for a decade. If it turns out that there’s been unrest, there’ll be more power for us in numbers. We stand a better chance of taking him and his grunts off guard that way.”

They then briefly discuss partnerships, noting which formations will work best in different scenarios. When Luffy yells that they’ve caught five or six fish, Sanji pushes himself up and reaches for a cigarette, slinking off to the kitchen to throw something together for dinner. Law has no problem with cutting off the conversation there, figuring that they’ve done everything they can to prepare for their arrival in the morning.

Sanji delicately caters to everyone’s dietary whims, something that Law shakes his head at. He’s never seen someone so skilled at cooking, let alone seen someone trying to show off when their wares are so limited. It feels unnecessarily extravagant.

“Live a little,” the blonde tells him while pouring Law a glass of wine. “Knowing we could die tomorrow just means there’s even more cause to celebrate today.”

The doctor supposes he can’t refute that, so he eats his admittedly luscious meal in silence, watching the mayhem unfold around him. After dinner, Luffy throws himself across Law’s shoulders, cheek pressed to the scruff of the older man’s sideburns. “Torao, c’mon, let’s play.”

Though he rolls his eyes, Law doesn’t shake Luffy off, merely looping his elbows underneath Luffy’s thighs so the lithe young man doesn’t fall or choke him to death. “Play what? It’s getting dark out.” They trade quips back and forth until they’re out of sight, Usopp and Sanji sharing a look across the table.

“Oh boy,” Nami huffs, equally amused by their antics. “He’s got it bad.” Her childhood friends nod in agreement.

Zoro grunts, arms folded over his chest. “He doesn’t know it, either.”

Robin points a finger at the doorframe through which the two had exited. “What about Luffy?”

Usopp sighs. “Who ever knows with him? He likes most people, but like _that_? I’ve never heard him talk about that kinda stuff.”

“You know,” Robin murmurs, “I almost feel sorry for the doctor. He’s so focused on taking down the emperor that he doesn’t see what’s under his own nose.”

“He’s so desperate that he’ll probably die in the line of fire before he gets to tell him,” Franky adds, making everyone else grow grim at the reminder. “Look, don’t everybody get all gloomy. We’re gonna watch his back, right?”

They all reply in the affirmative, fully-committed to doing what needs to be done for Luffy’s sake, and therefore, by extension, Law’s.

* * *

Corazon rappels down from the mast, binoculars clipped to his toolbelt. “There are foreign ships docked onshore at three o’clock, sir. Four or five, maybe. A small fleet.”

Sengoku gathers himself up at his full height, addressing the small company of volunteer militia aboard their vessel. “I won’t give you any pretty words, my fellows,” the ex-admiral says, tone strong and steady. “Today is our first step in securing a better future for our loved ones on the continent. Months of intel have led to this singular opportunity, and it’s up to us to seize it. If we fail, we die knowing that we did everything we could to stop the continent from completely falling under the reign of a tyrant. If we win, we bring home glory and liberation.”

He pauses for dramatic effect, throwing his right arm into a wide salute.

“If our options are to sit back and play the part of ignorant bystanders while the emperor steals our women and children or to take back our rights, then why don’t we prove ourselves here and now? History is written by the victors—let us go forth and _make history!_ ”

The crowd whoops and hollers with reckless abandon, gathering up their weapons and preparing for landing. Sengoku, Aokiji, and Corazon watch them with eyes half-closed, praying that they can manage to keep even a quarter of their men alive. If the information Tsuru provided is accurate, and one of Doflamingo's officers has managed to bring Dressrosa fully under his thumb, whether by force or parley, their fleeting rebellion may very well be doomed.

“It’s sad, isn’t it?” Aokiji mumbles. “Seeing them so hopeful.”

Corazon lights his cigarette with a furrowed brow. “War’s always sad, Aokiji.”

* * *

When gunfire starts going off just beyond the castle walls, Corazon and his small squadron elbow past the disoriented garrison. It’d been fairly simple for them to defeat Doflamingo’s foot soldiers, what with the townspeople giving them a wide berth and practically cheering for their triumph.

He furrows his brow, double-checking to make sure his pistol is loaded. If his brother's henchmen have taken things so far as to threaten the king, maybe they stand a better chance of this operation being successful than he initially thought.

The troubling part is that he has no way to communicate with Aokiji and Sengoku, who are doing everything they can to keep Doflamingo’s reinforcements from breaching the premises. It’s a solo mission, now, and everything may come down to his ability to shoot his only living relative down in cold blood, even if said sibling _is_ a mass-murdering monster.

 _Clear your mind,_ Corazon silently tells himself. _Focus on the task at hand. He might not even be here._

He pats his breast pocket, feeling a familiar weight there.

It’s a trump-card, one that he hopes he lives long enough to use.

* * *

When Law and Luffy’s crew arrive in Dressrosa, they’re tired and sweaty from the heat, which is tropical and humid, a vast departure from the brisk winter weather they’d been appropriately dressed for in Sousborough.

There’s no time to relax, though. Franky and Usopp, who both have excellent hearing, tell the rest of the group that they can hear shouting. The marksman goes a step further, noting that he can smell gunpowder as well. Law clicks his tongue.

“Let’s head to the castle through the woods,” he shouts, casting an idle glance at the mass of bodies in the center of town. “We need to avoid pointless fights.”

The closer they get to the gates, the more Law realizes something is wrong. The uniforms of the men around the castle don’t belong solely to the imperial army. There's a motley assortment of people gathered, some well-trained, and some obviously civilians, feebly attempting to keep Doflamingo’s people _out_.

They’re likely not from Dressrosa. They’re all too pale. _Another group of rebels?_

Still, it’s an auspicious coincidence. “We can sneak in under the bridge,” Law says, leading the infiltration. “Luffy, before you complain, you can cause all the havoc you want once we get _inside_ the castle. Understood?”

“Fine,” Luffy whines, puffing out his cheeks as he pouts.

They use a series of grappling hooks to climb the low wall. Robin’s astonished that they don’t have archers lying in wait above, but Law explains that Dressrosa has been drained dry of human resources. “All of the able men are probably out in the mines,” Law says, hopping off of the rope and onto the ground, reaching up to help Chopper descend.

With the sound of gunfire and swords clashing getting louder, Law encourages them to hurry up, impatiently beckoning them to the throne room, which he hopes is dead in the center of the building like all the castles he’s seen floorplans of before.

* * *

“Put your hands up,” a familiar voice says, blood oozing down his right calf as he issues the demand.

Doflamingo arches an eyebrow up over his glasses, momentarily putting down the piece of paper with a contract drafted on it along with his pistol. “Well, well,” he drawls, “if it isn’t my baby brother.”

Sengoku had warned him that Doflamingo might have been planning to step in and handle business with King Riku personally, but Corazon simply couldn’t have fathomed the idea; the emperor had most of the continent to manage. He’d believed himself ready for the confrontation, had been mentally preparing for it for days, but in the here and now, he feels his throat closing up. “Put the gun away, Doffy,” Corazon rasps, willing his hand to stop shaking.

“You put down yours first, Roci.” Trebol puts up his arm to aim, but Doflamingo stops him, holding out a palm. “We’re talking, Trebol. You know how important family matters are to me.”

Briefly sliding his gaze away from his megalomaniac brother, Corazon speaks to the king. “Your majesty. There’s no need to deal with this tyrant. He speaks nothing but lies.”

Riku blinks at him, eyes wide. Corazon knows he’s only stalling for time—the king is more familiar with his brother’s ways than most. Thankfully, the man throws him a line. “What do you mean by that?”

Corazon gets down on one knee, putting a hand to his heart. “That the emperor who so brazenly claims he’s been put on earth to rule the world by the heavens is a sham. If he is so grand and mightily bred, ask him where his proof is.”

A vein pulses in Doflamingo’s temple as he whips his pistol up to point it at his brother. “I knew you took that with you back then for this exact reason, you _traitorous_ , filthy sewer rat. Seize him— _seize him!_ ” He fires several shots wildly, leading Corazon to duck behind a pillar and Riku to run away from the throne. Corazon’s distraction serves its purpose. He doesn’t know what kind of miracle he’s been granted, but Doflamingo’s horde is apparently too far away, or preoccupied, to heed his cries.

From his hiding place, Corazon skillfully manages to put a bullet through Trebol’s thigh, further inciting Doflamingo’s rage. A sabre slides against the marble in retaliation, the blade nicking Corazon’s abdomen.

Clutching his side with a bitter laugh, Corazon quickly seeks refuge in another room, absently hoping that he can find King Riku later, assuming that he can escape his brother’s wrath first.

* * *

Luffy and the rest of his crew get drawn away from the main hall when some of Doflamingo’s higher officers charge them. They’re too troublesome to let loose, so Law wishes them the best, disappointed but not upset when he winds up dodging blades left and right on the way to the throne room.

He uses a poison-coated dagger in his gloved left hand, the quickest way he knows of to dispatch of bumbling, two-bit soldiers. He’s stunned to find Trebol, Doflamingo’s chancellor, on the ground screaming bloody murder, snot running down his nose.

 _How did everything go so wrong?_ Law wonders, frustrated beyond belief. He’d been so close. Digging his heel into Trebol’s leg, Law snarls. “Where’s your boss?” There’s no way Trebol came here alone. If he’s here, Doflamingo’s close by.

“ _Law_ ,” Trebol sneers, blood pooling out of his wound. Somebody had gotten awfully lucky with their shot; the shell casing has blasted right through the chancellor’s muscle and has possibly chipped his femur. “I should’ve known. You and that lying snake have always been in cahoots. You planned this, didn’t you?”

For a long swathe of awkward silence, Law wonders what the hell Trebol is talking about. He gets nauseated when he realizes what the chancellor is implying. For some reason, Cora is here. _Of all the awful fucking coincidences._ “Yes,” he lies, jabbing his sword into the portly man’s open wound, making his injury phenomenally worse. “Ever since we left the manor, we’ve been looking for a way to bring this shitty excuse for an empire to its knees. If you won’t tell me where your boss is, I’ll find him myself.”

“I’ll die before I tell you anything,” Trebol insists, foaming at the mouth.

“Fine,” Law replies, jabbing his blade through the man’s neck to make his death swift.

He wipes his sword clean on his pant leg before looking around. There’s blood everywhere and no way to tell whose is whose, so he aims for the western wing. If the king’s not in the throne room, finding him is up to sheer blind luck, now.

* * *

Law throws open doors left and right, shouting for King Riku. On the rare occasions that someone is inside waiting to ambush him, he stabs them quickly and keeps moving, excess blood staining his clothes a rusty iron red.

On his seventh attempt, he’s met with the barrel of a gun in his face. He double-takes, having initially believed the man to be a corpse. His amber eyes grow wide when he realizes who it is that’s riddled with fresh sword punctures and a small hole through his chest that’s likely pierced his lungs.

He nearly drops his sword, hands trembling. “Cora?”

Cora lowers his gun with a wobbly smile. It’s been a long time since Law’s seen him without his makeup, and it’s more off-putting than he thought it would be. “Law. I must be dreaming, huh? Life flashing before my eyes and all that.” He coughs weakly, a nasty, pitiful little sound. When Law frantically puts his ear to Cora’s chest, he can hear how difficult breathing has become for the blonde.

“You’re not dreaming, you asshole, be quiet,” Law demands, ripping his father’s shirt off and inspecting his wounds more closely. “I don’t have the right tools, but I need to get you out of here. There might still be time—”

Cora shakes his head, fingers wrapped around Law’s hand in a loose grip. His eyes are slightly crossed, obviously unfocused. “If you’re really here,” he says, “I need you to take something and run.”

“You _shut the hell up_ , I’m not listening to you.” He throws Cora’s arm over his shoulder, pulse thunderously loud in his ears. “Don’t you remember spouting all that bullshit at me about saving lives? I’m trying to save _your_ fucking life because I’m a doctor, stop _talking_.”

“Law,” Cora stubbornly hisses his name, digging his nails into Law’s skin. “There’s no time. Listen to me.” Law feels his throat closing up, a wave of hot tears threatening to roll down his cheeks. Cora points to his pocket. “You see that signet ring?” Law nods, scowling in burning fury. “It’s the symbol of royalty—old royalty, from the days before the great war. It belongs to me.”

Law’s eyes grow wide. “But the Donquixote family is of a noble bloodline, not a royal one.”

“Not anymore,” Cora says, putting a hand on Law’s face with a smile. “It wasn’t always that way. We were stripped from our former glory. That’s why my brother’s so wretchedly power-hungry now. He wants what he believes he was born to have, but he’s been forced to make allegiances. He’s infertile, so he had to bring in children from around the continent and make them his, assign them to political marriages to extend his influence. The people trusted him, as a businessman and a noble. Look and see what that’s gotten them.”

Blood comes up in Cora’s next wet cough and Law despairs. “Don’t you dare do this to me,” he whispers, voice breaking. “You took me away from him so I didn’t get caught up in all that, didn’t you? You said we were in this together—you said you didn’t want me to go on a suicide mission to kill your brother, and _here you are_ , doing the same damn thing.”

“But I couldn’t kill him,” Cora croaks, unable to keep a hysteric laugh from tumbling out of his throat. “I got this far, I had my hand on the trigger, and I _couldn’t do it_. Law, just take the stupid ring and go. Riku will listen to you if he’s still well.” The fight slowly ebbs from his body, each breath shallower than the last. Law sobs, shaking his head against Cora’s chest, seconds away from falling to pieces. “Law?”

Law doesn’t answer him, unless Cora counts unintelligible sniffling as an answer.

“Saving you was the best thing I’ve ever done in my life,” Cora whispers. “I love you.”

That said, he drifts away, the sound of Law’s ugly cries muffled by the madness occurring everywhere in the castle.

* * *

Luffy comes crashing through a set of wooden doors, almost running face-first into Law as he throws his defeated opponent to the ground. “There’s too many people,” he says, falling into step with the taller man easily. “Any ideas?”

“We’re going back to the ship,” Law replies, exhausted down to his bones. “The king’s missing and the emperor’s probably headed back to the continent. We need to regroup.”

Noting the defeated tone to Law’s voice, Luffy frowns. “Everything alright?”

“Not really,” he says, absently tripping one of their pursuers with his sword, hopping over a trail of corpses. “I’ll talk to you about it later. Let’s make sure we get out of here in one piece first.”

* * *

It takes three days for all of Luffy’s crew to make it back to the boat, what with the ongoing riots and residual issues occurring in Dressrosa. They set sail on a sunny day, a stark contrast to the storm brewing behind Law’s eyes.

Everyone gives him space for a while, relying on his lazy directions to head southeast, where the rebel army headquarters lie. After his sixth day of secrecy, Luffy grabs Law’s wrist and drags him into one of the bedrooms, ready to pull the truth from Law by force if need be.

They sit in stony silence for the better part of an hour. When Law is certain that Luffy has drifted off to sleep, he finally starts to speak.

“My dad and I never agreed on politics,” he says, fingers curled into the hard mattress with a forlorn expression. “He was a military man through and through. Determined to change the system from the inside or whatever. I didn’t know he was a part of this god-awful scheme until it was too late. We’d pretty much stopped talking to each other last year because we got tired of arguing all the time.”

The solace of Luffy’s quiet, steady breathing makes things easier to say aloud.

“When my parents died—my birth parents,” Law adds, though he doesn’t know why, because he’s practically talking to himself, “I thought that was it for me. I was four or five, unruly as hell and completely unprepared to live on the streets. I managed, though, because I was petty and I refused to die without fighting. Later, when Cora said he wanted to take me away from the manor, I thought he was deranged. Who would walk away from the good life like that, even if he thought he had a good reason?”

He pauses.

“I knew about the torture.” Law had participated in it, even, believing it to be his duty as a member of the Donquixote family. “Later, I heard about the murder camps, where they gas people to death, break them down psychologically, and sew them together at the hips and see if they can make a more effective human with four legs. I could’ve been in charge of one of those.” He shudders, biting his lip. “He saved some ignorant little shit he barely knew because he thought I was smart. He gave me his fucking signet ring because he trusted me to carry on the proper royal will or whatever the hell. What am I supposed to do with all that?”

He jumps when Luffy grabs his hand and pulls him down against his chest. “He saved you because he cared about you,” Luffy mumbles, putting his arm over Law’s waist. “He trusted you to do the right thing with it, and you will.”

Frustrated tears well up in Law’s eyes again. He squeezes his eyes shut in a futile attempt to keep them from falling. “You have that in common with him—putting unfounded faith in me. How can you say that, knowing the kind of things I’ve done?” The skeletons in his closet just keep piling up.

Luffy pushes himself more fully against Law, digging his nose into the hair at Law’s nape. “I don’t think you’re a bad person. You just want to be free, and you want everyone else to have the kind of chance your dad gave you.”

Laughing bitterly, Law draws up the covers and permits himself to rest for the first time all week, deeply comforted by the warmth of another body around him.

* * *

When they get close to the Junkyard, Law asks Usopp if he’ll climb into the crow’s nest and wave a white flag. The coast is craggy and there’s no proper dock, so visitors usually drop anchor in Braville, but it’s safer this way, especially if Doflamingo’s forces are still there quelling a rebellion. It’s a well-recognized symbol of non-aggression, useful to keep his friends from loading up the canons and accidentally shooting them down on sight.

He’s lucky. Penguin is the one on watch, and after twenty minutes, he excitedly waves his arms, recognizing Law’s silhouette from a mile away. “Sorry,” Law mutters. “It’s about to get loud.”

Luffy and the rest of his crew simply snicker. “Fine by us.”

Pulling up on shore is a process on the murky banks of Law’s home turf, but Franky, Zoro, and Luffy manage it, the oldest of the three men barking out instructions to keep the keel of the ship unblemished.

Penguin throws an arm around Law’s shoulder, babbling ecstatic nonsense in his boss’s ear. Law pushes him off with a wary half-smile, nodding and chiming in with responses when he feels it’s appropriate, but Penguin eventually catches Law’s drift—he’s not in the mood for useless chatter. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” Law says. “We just need some sleep. We hit a rough patch of waves last night.”

He can tell there’s more to the story, but Penguin doesn’t push Law for details. He knows it would only make the other man clam up. “If you say so.” He looks up to see the other people climbing down from the ship with a raised brow. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Law rolls his eyes. “Let’s wait until we get up to headquarters. I can’t be bothered to do it twice.”

Penguin theatrically clutches his chest. “That’s ice cold, boss. I’m hurt.”

“Oh, piss off,” Law affectionately mutters, lips quirking up into a smile.

* * *

“This is Luffy, captain of the ship _Sunny_ , and his crew,” Law dryly says to a room full of people. Luffy and the rest obligingly smile and wave at his introduction. “Sea bandits, meet my gang, the rebel army of the north.”

Bepo stands up and shouts, causing a fuss. “I keep telling you we should be called the _Heart_ gang, because we fight with our hearts on the line.”

Law rolls his eyes. “We don’t need a _name_. That’ll just be something people can trace back to us.”

The burly man takes a seat with a frown. “Just between us, then.”

“Denied.” Bepo angrily huffs, so Law continues. “I understand the appeal, Bepo. We just have to remember what’s at stake here. It’s for the greater good.”

Finally, he relents. “I get it. Let’s move on with the discussion.”

Law updates everyone on the events of Dressrosa, alerting them that the empire is going to be even more relentless in their pursuit of total domination. He still stands a chance at garnering King Riku’s favor, given the ring in his possession, but the country’s citizens are in no shape to help him wage a war. “We need to go to Morgiana and Dresden, see if they can support us in any way.”

Shachi grumbles. “I don’t know that we have to money to sail out that far, and how long would that take? Things are already getting dicey in Braville.”

“Luffy’s group is going to help us on that front,” Law says, gesturing for Nami, Usopp, and Robin to stand. “These three are going to be our key negotiators. The rest are going to help us fight on the continent, give some of our officers a break.”

“We’ve managed to smuggle some metalworking supplies into the Junkyard, but we don’t have anybody well-versed in making weapons,” Uni adds.

Franky raises a hand this time. “Usopp and I can teach anybody decent with their hands what to do. It’ll be a couple weeks before they’re ready to hoist sail anyways, so we have plenty of time to go over the basics.”

“Sanji, Luffy, and Zoro are accomplished fighters,” Law goes on, sweeping his arm in an arc to gesture to the three men. “You lot who’ll be on the frontline will be learning directly from them or from me. We all have varying techniques, from savate to swordplay, so I expect you to train diligently.” Law steels himself for his final warning. “I’m sorry that we have to shift from sabotage and espionage to this, but needs must and all that.”

Everyone on Law’s team seems remarkably unperturbed by his words. In fact, they’re damn-near cheerful. “We’ll follow you ‘til the end, captain,” Shachi replies, “whatever that looks like.”

Moved, Law turns around so his gang can’t see his face. “You’re all fools,” he murmurs, just loud enough for everyone to hear him. “But thank you.”

* * *

With their new busy schedules, Law hardly has a moment to unwind, training and sparring with his men and with Luffy to keep himself in shape. He does all that while still organizing everything from the top-down, trying to create a map of all the rapidly upcropping rogue factions on the continent. The people are finally beginning to revolt in earnest.

Spring’s nearly over by the time Bepo finally manages to get Law mostly alone, his best friend wearily collapsed next his relatively new partner, the wily combatant Luffy that none of Law’s gang can manage to pin down.

“So,” Bepo starts, taking a seat on the floor next to Law. “What happened in Dressrosa?”

Law runs a hand through his hair, which he’s recently cut, much to his great satisfaction. “I already told you.”

“You told me what I needed to know,” Bepo says, glancing at Luffy as if to silently ask Law if it’s okay that they keep talking where someone else could overhear.

The older man follows his gaze and hums. “He knows. It’s fine.” Drawing in a deep breath, Law leans forward, putting his cheek to his bent knees and closing his eyes. “Cora was there.” Bepo inhales sharply, understanding the significance of the divulgence. “He’s dead.”

Bepo glares at his friend, eyes glossy. “And you waited four months to tell me?”

“There’s no time to be sentimental,” Law hisses, voice cracking. “Doflamingo’s closing in from all sides, and either these little pockets of half-baked rebel factions band together and push him out or we all die. I’m currently trying not to think about it.”

Slumping against the wall, Bepo starts to cry. “God, Law. I’m so tired of this.”

Though Law would like nothing less, he says, “You could quit, if you want. I wouldn’t blame you.”

Bepo scowls, messily wiping his face. “I would never do that to you. You need me now more than ever.”

Law smiles weakly. “Right.” He’d always been like an older brother to Bepo. It’s strange, feeling as though their roles have reversed, that his friend now feels the need to protect _him_.

They sit in comfortable silence for a while before Bepo speaks again, whispering this time, as if nervous that he might wake up the room’s third occupant. “So, what’s the deal with you and him?”

Blinking, Law flatly asks, “What do you mean?”

“C’mon, captain. How long do you think I’ve known you?” Bepo jeers. “You don’t make friends easily, and I never would’ve expected you to strike up an alliance with a pirate. How’d all that happen?”

“I met him a long time ago. Things were different,” Law says, tone defensive. “He’s doing me a favor, hell only knows why. I haven’t even asked him what he wants out of this.”

“But you like him.” Law freezes up and Bepo laughs. “I’m not stupid. It’s obvious.”

“I won’t do anything about it,” Law murmurs, voice incredibly faint. Luffy’s snores are thunderously loud, thankfully, a sign that he’s truly and deeply asleep instead of just pretending. “I’m busy.”

“What you are is an idiot,” Bepo deadpans. Law glares up at him in response. “I’m just saying. I don’t know what’s so special about him, but if you like him, you should tell him. Tomorrow’s never promised.”

“That’s exactly why I _won’t_ ,” Law says, lips set in a determined frown. “I couldn’t tell you what it is about him. It’s hard to explain.” He gingerly runs a hand through Luffy’s bangs, eyes going soft for a fraction of a second. “Something about his gung-ho attitude makes me feel like we can’t lose.”

“Maybe he’s your goddess of victory,” the younger man says. Law snorts. “What? I thought I did pretty good with that one.”

“Keep dreaming, buddy,” Law replies, closing his eyes for a quick nap.

* * *

After five months of scrapping together resources while Luffy’s three crewmates sail just outside of the continental navy’s watchful eye, Law’s gang receives a visitor from the middle-western nation of Quirrick.

Law looks up from his notebook when Bepo pokes his head in the door, announcing the man’s arrival. Luffy is taking a lunchbreak in Law’s office, prattling on about Law’s subordinates with stuffed cheeks, noting that they’re finally managing to put him on the defensive. Law hushes him so Bepo can speak freely. When Bepo’s finished briefing Law, he opens the door.

The man’s posture is loose, open, possibly ready for negotiation or ready to offer Law a proposal. He’s met with dozens of rebel faction leaders since January. This is nothing new.

“I’ve heard that you’re planning to storm the capital,” the blonde man says. “Is that true?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” Law mutters, heavily scrutinizing the stranger.

“C’mon now,” he taunts, lips quirking up into a smirk. “Don’t be so distant. We’ve met before.”

Try as he might, Law keeps drawing a blank, but Luffy is the one who finally breaks their impromptu staring contest. “Sabo,” he yells, running into the blonde’s arms with a bright grin.

It’s Luffy’s other brother.

 _Things just keep getting more and more complicated_ , Law thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you _soooooo_ much for your continued support on this fic. every comment/kudo/bookmark/hit means the world to me, honestly. rock on, my friends ♡♡♡
> 
> ♡ you can also find me on ♡
> 
> ✧tumblr: **[@quillifer](https://quillifer.tumblr.com/)**  
>  ✧twitter: **[@quillifer](https://twitter.com/quillifer)**


	7. act vii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the delay in getting this chapter out. as loads of ppl know, shit's been absolutely batshit here in the states and uh. it has been an absolute mental struggle to finish this. but i'm frustrated and i'm motivated and damn it!!! i want catharsis via writing if nothing else
> 
> anyways. stay safe out there y'all. ily ♡
> 
> maps: [[worldwide](https://flic.kr/p/2j2HyCa)] + [[continental nations/areas only](https://flic.kr/p/2j2EVYV)] + [[current donquixote territory]](https://flic.kr/p/2j2K9ni) \+ [[trade routes/raids as of c4](https://flic.kr/p/2j2K9ht)]

Sabo spends several minutes catching up with Luffy before getting down to business. “I assume you’ve heard about the slave revolts happening in Quirrick and Lefstone.”

Law raises an eyebrow as Bepo rolls out the faded old map the blonde had handed him. “In Quirrick, yes. We haven’t received any reports about Lefstone.”

“We only started helping them escape this past winter. With all the turmoil on the continent, it doesn’t surprise me to hear you haven’t gotten the news.” Sabo takes a quick look around the room. “What country is this, anyway? I don’t think it’s part of Braville or Ricketts.”

“It’s not,” Law dryly replies. “We call it the Junkyard.”

The blonde snorts. “Aptly named.” Everyone in the northwest is well-acquainted with the filthy practices of the rich. He holds out his hand in a gesture of goodwill. “Apologies for the informal introduction. I’m Sabo, commander-in-chief of the liberation army.”

After he and Law shake hands, Penguin offers the blonde a seat and he takes it, folding his arms over his chest. Sabo waits for Law and his team to analyze the map’s markings thoroughly before he speaks again.

“The spots marked with a star are areas where my partner, Koala, has secured safe passage via anonymous conspirators in those countries, marking safe routes for the slaves to escape. The spots marked with x’s are areas where my other partner, Hack, has destroyed the political infrastructure. If you’re really planning on storming the capital, I think we’re one raid away from providing you a path to the capital.”

Law looks up from the map, putting his hands down on the desk with a frown. “Why join hands with us? The abolitionist movement’s primary goal is to advocate for peace and civil rights, isn’t it?”

Sabo rolls his eyes. “You really think we can peacefully campaign for freedom on the continent with a tyrannical emperor in charge? We’re not stupid, and we didn’t accomplish all this by begging the imperial guards for mercy.”

The dark-skinned man smirks. “True enough. Fine. Come with us.”

* * *

Law and Sabo spend the better part of two hours bickering about best practices, debating tactics at high-speed, trying to figure out how quickly they can sanction a plan of action. Eventually, they break for dinner. Law slides away from the bustling mess as Sabo mingles with his group, making fast friends with the lot of them.

Luffy wanders from the dining area to the cape as the dusk turns to evening, the sky a murky shade of deep blue. He spots Law staring out at the water and has a seat, pressing their backs together. “You’re gonna get your revenge soon, huh?”

He hums, the sound reverberating through his chest and thrumming across Luffy’s back. Law clutches his sword while clenching his eyes shut, hoping that the physical stimulus will keep him distracted from his thoughts. “I hope so.”

Luffy threads his fingers between Law’s, encouraging Law to loosen the grip on his weapon. “I _know_ so.”

He starts whistling something off-key, some ditty he’s made up on the fly. Law finds that it’s not so bad, focusing on the company he keeps rather than contemplating his own near-inevitable demise.

* * *

Seven months after the botched operation in Dressrosa, Law has his team stand up, rank and file. They don’t have a formulated salute, and they certainly don’t march, but word on the street is that Doflamingo’s officers have all intention of claiming Braville as their newest territory, the northern portion of the continent breached by the emperor’s foul intentions at long last.

There’s no better time to sneak into his manor and to take Doflamingo’s head from his shoulders, Law thinks.

They clear everything out, making sure that they send word to the field agents that they won’t be returning to this base any time soon. If everything goes south, they don’t want the emperor’s men to search through all their documents and ruin everything.

Sabo leaves a few days ahead of them, going to tell Koala and Hack that he has the rebel army’s assistance. Their core unit is only about fifty strong, but those trailing them and heading to the capital through various routes total two to three thousand. Law assumes, going by the typical rate of accidents, dehydration, and lack of food supply, that the number will be closer to fifteen or sixteen hundred when it’s all said and done, but that means there are still a thousand more people than he initially expected to join his cause.

It’s agony on the mind, shuffling through tunnels and rationing out meals. It doesn’t help that the weather is blazing and miserable as they spend weeks traveling to the east. Getting to Lefstone with only one casualty is an achievement. Law and Chopper keep watchful eyes on everyone in their party, doing their due diligence to make sure that any wounds they accumulate are treated promptly and kept clean.

After three weeks, they arrive at the mountains, relieved by the sight of several mules and horses waiting for them. The regular trade route is barred—the imperial guards have wised up, thanks to the rebels’ efforts, and have posted a full company right at the border where the emperor has full dominion over the continent.

It’s more annoying than anything to traverse through the mountains, making sure the four-legged animals have sure footing the higher up they go. There’s plenty of wildlife hidden amongst the trees, so there’s no need to worry about starvation. They’re fully capable of hunting for their supper and packing away berries for snacks later.

Descending from the mountains is easier said than done, what with the treacherously high winds on the west coast. As soon as they manage to get their forces to ground, they’re tossed into a battle, Luffy and Zoro taking the bull by the horns and charging in headfirst.

Law snarls when he finds that they’ve gone off on their own, a dozen people following them blindly, throwing his hand out and bellowing orders as quickly as he can manage. It takes an hour for him to reach the frontlines, aiming for the torso when it’s exposed, and aiming for the break in the mail around the neck when it isn’t.

When they settle down to make camp for the evening, Law drags himself into the tent where Luffy, Sanji, Franky, and Zoro are already splayed out, their clothes and nails grimy with dirt. Putting out a new bedroll would take too much effort, so he curls up at the edge of the pile as best he can, dozing off to the distant sound of the lookouts’ chatter and gunshots firing in the distance. They aren’t here to play by the emperor’s rules—they came here to win, dirty tactics and all.

The rebels move swiftly, taking around five days to force their opposition to retreat. They lose eight men in the skirmish. All things considered, it’s a miracle to discover that there are only four additional soldiers grievously injured.

They’ve learned from their past reckless endeavors; they’re very intimately familiar with the imperial guard’s tricks now. Their victory gives Law hope that they can do this; they _can_ win by outmaneuvering their enemy.

The raging storms are terrible as they move forward through Sawlith, mud mucking up their waders and flies swarming them in the damp heat. It takes another three weeks of grueling travel to make it to a small town in Prowl, the country just west of Drum. Here, they’ll meet with the liberation army and the extended rebel forces who have agreed to join them in storming the emperor’s keep, using the element of surprise to their advantage.

Luffy and his friends coerce the more laidback members of the operation to join them in playing in the rain while it’s drizzling and mild. Law rolls his eyes, but doesn’t stop them, simply stepping into the dilapidated house that he, Sabo, Koala, Hack, and a middle-aged man named Rayleigh are using for shelter while they plan their coordinated assault. Law has often exchanged letters with the man everyone seems to call the _king of the shadows_ , not that he knows what in the left hell that title is meant to imply. According to Uni, Rayleigh is largely responsible for such a huge turnout of volunteer soldiers from the distant colonies, and, apparently, the biggest reason that they have such a wide arsenal.

The troops busy themselves by doing thankless work, sharpening their swords and cleaning their shoes. As their meeting gets off to a rousing start, Law realizes that the reason it had been difficult for him to come to accord with Sabo is that he’s unreasonable, much like his little brother. Under Koala’s watchful eye, their discussions manage to get a lot further.

Law sketches out maps of the manor as he remembers it, telling all of them to bear in mind that it’s been ten years since he’d seen hide or hair of the place. More importantly, he outlines their biggest headaches to deal with _before_ getting to the building.

“Lieutenant General Diamante. He uses a broadsword and a buckler shield. Very slippery, solid footwork.” Law describes him, noting the man’s extensive expertise in the field, especially with training obedient drones to follow his every order from a young age. For the second man, he’s had Bepo craft a sketch, and he points to it with a haunted look. “Field Marshal Vergo. He’s typically not a man of action; he works the political side. That doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. In fact, he’s probably the most dangerous man in the family, aside from Doflamingo.”

Rayleigh quirks a brow. “The family?”

Law glances off to the side, mentally cursing himself for the slip. “That’s what the emperor calls them.” He clenches a fist, turning to Rayleigh with barely-restrained fury burning bright in his eyes. “He uses a staff. It’s unorthodox, but not unheard of. It makes his reach impossibly long, and it’s just as deadly as a sword or a gun. _Don’t_ underestimate him if you cross paths.”

Rayleigh gleans the fact that Law’s holding something back, but he doesn’t press. “Alright. Do you have any more pertinent information?”

Law shakes his head. “Nothing in particular. Just keep an eye out for the emperor, too. He’s a snake. If you disparage his combat abilities, _you’re_ the one who’s going to suffer.”

Koala, Sabo, Hack, and Rayleigh nod at that. Tired from travel and even more exhausted at drafting up battle plans, the five of them break away from the table, left to spend the evening up to their own devices. Law elects to take a long walk through a nearby forest, stopping at several points along the way to hold a hand up to the sky. He doesn’t believe in gods. Never has, and never will. But at moments like this, so close to reaching the goal, and yet so far, he searches inside of himself for inner peace in a whole new way.

He closes his eyes, inhaling and exhaling in a slow and steady rhythm. He’s deep in meditation when he’s startled by arms wrapping around his waist. He has two separate panicked reactions―the first being that he’s going to lose his balance and have his skull cracked on the ground by an attacker, and the second that it might be a benign hug, but he doesn’t have much time to turn around and find out.

“Sorry,” Luffy says, a high laugh spilling from his throat. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I saw you sneaking away, and I know how you get. Nobody should be alone at a time like this.”

Law bitterly chuckles in response, willing himself to slip back into the calm mindset of moments prior. He relaxes his arms, puts his hands over Luffy’s, heart racing. “Luffy, this might be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.” He doesn’t want to get attached when their days might be numbered. He’s learned the hard way how much it hurts to have one of the most important people in his life ripped away from him, the feeling so painful that someone might as well have reached into his chest and pulled out his heart.

“Don’t care,” Luffy stubbornly replies, huffing out his cheeks. He briefly releases Law so that the taller man is forced to look at his face, sharp scowl and all. “You like me, don’t you?” Amber eyes shift off to the left. Luffy is having exactly none of it, grabbing Law by the jaw and forcing him to look into his dark eyes. “Don’t ignore me. I’m not dumb.”

The older man frowns. “We’re in the middle of a war. I refuse to answer that.”

“Why? Because you’re scared?” Law tenses up, skin prickling with the visceral need to go on the defensive. “I don’t get scared about dying because there’s no point. People die everyday. I’d rather die fighting for something I believed in than living in fear and being nervous about it. Just one more reason to ask for the things I want _now_ , because who knows if I’ll be around to enjoy them tomorrow?”

Once again, it strikes Law how Luffy, just shy of eighteen years of age, could be simultaneously the most childish person Law’s ever met and also the most enlightened one. Another acrid chuckle flows out of Law’s mouth as he slowly gives in, slumping into Luffy’s embrace, hands gingerly fisted in the fabric of the younger man’s shirt. “Yes, I like you,” Law admits, the words barely above a whisper. “If you die on me,” he says, eyes clenched shut tightly to keep from crying, “I’ll never forgive you.”

Luffy presses his lips to Law’s neck. “I’ll try my best.”

* * *

The trekk into central Donquixote Territory is fraught with skirmishes as their insurrection party toils to make it to the capital. It takes months, their losses nearing one hundred or more when they finally spot a small imperial troop that’s been deployed, ready and waiting for them to break over the hill.

Zoro and Sanji fervently argue over who will draw first blood, leading a charge of soldiers into the fray while flinging petty insults at each other at top volume. They break the enemy’s formation, splitting their forces so that there’s a wide rift between the left and right flank. This allows the bulk of them to push ahead, makeshift shields held just under their chins so that they don’t reduce their visibility.

It takes two hours to break into the country, then another twelve hours to find sustainable shelter and create an impromptu chain-of-command. This close to the endgame, it’s more of an _all hands on deck_ sort of situation, where Hack and Rayleigh specifically encourage the younger ones to make sure that they keep vigil over each other in the midst of battle, because no one else will be able to effectively watch their backs.

The days all start blurring together, Bepo eventually dragging Law away from the command tent and throwing him into Luffy’s warm little hug pile, determined to make his best friend and leader get a few hours of sleep. “You can’t fight the empire while you’re running on fumes, Captain,” the burly man reminds him, and Law huffily closes his eyes, at least, even if he doesn’t get any real rest.

The weeks crawl forward slowly as they head to the southwest. When they begin to spot fields on the horizon, Law throws his arm out, encouraging everyone to stop.

There are two platoons just shy of the capital’s perimeter, both of them led by two imposingly tall men. Law’s not sure why Doflamingo’s so infatuated with keeping people close to his own stature at his beck and call, but it certainly makes his enemies easy to spot.

Diamante speaks first, toting a blowhorn in his hands to amplify his voice. “Rebel forces. Surrender now and be taken prisoner, or otherwise, forfeit your lives!”

Law steps forward, watching from the corner of his eye as Rayleigh’s subversive unit aims to break down the foundations of the wall that’s barricading them from entering the city proper. “What’s the full list of your demands?” He shouts from his diaphragm, hoping all his words will carry. He can see Luffy’s hackles rising from the corner of his eye, and he gingerly holds unfurls a palm behind his back, as if to silently ask if the younger man trusts him.

Luffy taps his laughter lines, so Law draws in a deep breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Diamante answers. “Everyone from the rebel forces must lay down their weapons in plain sight, and the leader must step forward, submitting themselves to a public execution.

There is, understandably, a lot of chatter about that, sordid murmurs about their absolute refusal to do so, and everyone is stunned when Law holds up his hands and puts down his bag. He hands Luffy his sword. “When I call for you, be ready, alright? Rayleigh should be done any minute. I’m only going to stall for time.”

“I’m going with you.”

“No,” Law insists, tightly gripping Luffy’s shoulder. “I need you to stay here. Just in case.”

Law deliberately walks over to Vergo, who has been unnaturally silent during the whole exchange. Vergo’s men part ways for him to make a straight shot to the man who had once been Law’s mentor.

“I’m not surprised, you know,” Vergo says, voice gravelly and baritone as Law remembers it. He keeps his hands clasped in front of him so that the imperial troops stay focused on them, monitoring his every move. “I told Doffy that refusing to hunt you down would be a bad idea in the long run. You’ve always been too smart for your own good.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Law flatly replies, maintaining steady eye contact with the older man. “I _truly_ owe it all to you.”

Vergo takes the butt end of his staff and shoves it into Law’s abdomen. It blows the wind out of him and causes him to reel, nearly falling to the ground in pain, but he shakily stays up on his feed, far too proud to show his weakness to his adversary. “Don’t sass me, boy.” He reaches out and grabs Law by a fistfull of his hair, leaning forward so that they’re practically nose-to-nose. “I know you all too well. You’re up to something, because that’s the way we raised you―to be a planner. I don’t know what it is and I don’t care. I’m going to ruin your pitiful little gang’s morale by cutting off your head right here.”

The sound of explosives going off nearby alerts Vergo’s men to a problem, or, more specifically, several problems. There are so many simultaneous reports that a vein throbs in his forehead. Law smiles up at him, his canines sharp, gleaming wickedly in the midday sun. “You said you knew I was up to something.” He reaches into his coat pockets for a very small smoke bomb, pulling out the pin and slamming it into the ground with full force. In the ensuing chaos, he runs while Vergo raspily barks out instructions to seize him at all costs.

He makes it back to the line of defense, idly noting that everyone has grabbed their weapons once more, ducking low to avoid bullets fired by Diamante’s soldiers. He doesn’t want it to become a war of attrition, so he instructs the rebel army to keep their enemies busy, keeping rounds of men coming at them in waves in rough terrain. No need to make things easy for them.

Rayleigh helps them slide into the partially-collapsed tunnel system, aiming to reach the emperor’s manor by nightfall. It’s all well and good until the more elite members of Vergo’s troops wind up right on their trail, ready and eager to hunt them down until sunset.

It’s grueling work, sticking to the shadows and setting up traps to ensnare the imperial guard. They shout to the townspeople that they mean no harm, so long as no one attacks them, which leads to people barring their windows shut and hurrying home in a tizzy.

Eventually, Luffy and Rayleigh get stuck fending off waves of Vergo’s goons. That leaves Vergo himself to defeat, and when Law stumbles into an old leather workshop with a wide tanning space, he decides it’s high past time that he get rid of one of the foremost ghosts of his past.

He licks his lips. Vergo has always hated his tendency for false bravado. “Hello again, Vergo.” They’re both sweaty, covered in grime and minor lacerations from tumbling through the cobblestone streets and filthy sewers.

Vergo slams his staff into the wall, cracking the wood paneling as a display of his raw power. “You’ve always been a rude brat, Law. Where’s your sense of loyalty? Of respect? We raised you to be better than this.”

“None of you raised me worth a shit,” Law exclaims, eyes narrowing with frothy rage. “You treated me like an adult from day one and forced me to commit atrocities. There’s only one person who _raised_ me to be something, to think for myself, and he’s gone.”

The older man smiles, humming in ugly glee. “Yes, I know. Doffy told me he left his brother for dead.”

Law snarls, unsheathing his sword and leaping forward. He knows he’s not supposed to fight angry, because it gives his opponent leverage, leaves him too many openings, but the wound is still too raw, festering inside of him like a disease.

They trade erratic blows for the better part of an hour, ducking around furniture and trinkets while aiming for each other’s throats. It’s much easier for Vergo to beat bruises into Law’s skin from four feet away, but Law’s sword is equally disastrous, ripping at the older man’s clothes and chipping away at his major muscle groups with each successful swipe.

Vergo starts aiming for Law’s legs as they cross the forty-minute mark of sparring―it’s easy to get dehydrated in the early spring heat, and both of them are drenched. His blow manages to trip the young man up, and Vergo seizes the opportunity, aiming to humiliate Law more than anything. “Never forget,” he breathes, grabbing Law by the collar, “that I will _always_ be more experienced than you.”

“How could I,” Law hoarsely replies, blood streaming down his nose and into his mouth. Before Vergo can stick his staff down Law’s throat and rupture his windpipe, a foot goes through the very hole he’d created at the beginning of their encounter. Bepo makes sure that he incapacitates Vergo, pressing his full weight against the man’s spine, as Law whips his sword through the air, shaking large chunks of dirt and blood off of the blade. “There wasn’t a single day where you trained together where you didn’t tell me that. But you left out one very important thing.” He moves his sword so that Vergo doesn’t have to guess where he’s aiming, the man’s sordid and sullen expression reflected in the blade. “When your experience gets you to the top, you start to get stagnant. Complacent with your cushy job and your lot in life. You forgot what it was like to be scrappy, to be the worst of the worst, to have to _fight_ your way up. I didn’t.”

There’s a deafening silence in the wake of the disgusting squelch of Law slicing through his cervical vertebrae and the neck muscles surrounding it. Vergo’s head rolls, dark eyes valiantly open to see his final moments, accepting his fate at the last moment.

Law grabs one of the hides off of a rack and crudely cleans his sword as he motions for Bepo to follow him out of the workshop. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

* * *

They hide in the dead of night amongst the townsfolk, blending in where they can, and keeping to the heavily-forested outskirts when they can’t. Approaching the manor is a problem for another day. For now, Law and Bepo are simply glad that they’ve been able to keep track of each other in all the madness, for that’s truly what this is―insanity.

Law refuses to be the reason they have to delay their plans, or deviate from them. Despite Bepo’s incessant warnings that he needs to rest, and his very prevalent knowledge that he needs to cool his limbs down as quickly as possible, he haphazardly slaps some bandages on his arms and pushes forward. It takes two days for them to reconvene with Rayleigh and Hack, but the older man brings news of Sabo’s arrival at the port, an integral portion of their ensuing plan.

Their numbers are dwindling, slowly creeping from twenty-seven hundred to twelve, swathes of bodies on the ground and enough blood on Law’s hands to last a lifetime. He feels nauseous, thinking of how Cora had saved him for the sake of saving people. _For once, I hope your useless, unfounded faith in me was right._

There is a little light in the darkness. Luffy and all of his crew seem to be relatively unscathed, cementing Law’s burgeoning thesis that they’re all somewhat impervious to danger. Bepo’s fine, Penguin’s limping and Shachi might lose feeling in his arm, but his best friends are all fine. It quiets something in Law’s mind to reconvene one last time before the siege, enjoying one last moment of peace.

Like a hound, Luffy sniffs him out. Law gets the sense that it’s becoming a pattern.

Before Luffy can tackle him to the ground, Law turns around, opening his arms and widening his stance to brace for impact. When surprised brown eyes blink up at him, the corner of Law’s eyes crinkle. “Ha,” he laughs sharply. “Weren’t expecting that, huh.”

Luffy pouts. Law pats him on the head and takes a seat on the grass, absently staring up at the waxing crescent moon. Neither of them mind the long stretch of silence, but Luffy’s boundless curiosity has no limits, and he also has no filter. “Whatcha gonna do when we win?”

Law snorts. “Awfully optimistic for an operation that’s lost over half of our invading members.”

Luffy pokes Law in the forehead, right between his furrowed brows. “I let you be all grumpy and moody most of the time. It’s my turn now, so answer me.”

Long fingers curl and uncurl in the dirt, exhaling slowly as he tries to find the words. “I’m not sure. I guess I’ll go back to being a doctor, mostly.” Law lives most days like he’s dying. Currently, other than planning to take down his nemesis, he hasn’t considered much else. “Research diseases and rare cases. Find out ways to better the practice of surgery. Travel the world.”

“That’s good,” Luffy says, a bright smile on his face. “You have things you want to do. I was worried that you didn’t.”

 _They’re mostly hollow concepts. Outlandish dreams, even,_ Law thinks, but he doesn’t dare to take away Luffy’s joy. “Right.” He turns on his side, putting his palm against his jaw. “So, what about you? I know you’re still on this whole king of the world schtick, whatever the hell that means.”

“Yeah,” Luffy chipperly responds, bouncing around like he hadn’t been beaten within an inch of his life days ago. “I started it when I went offshore the first time, getting to know so many people. I love different cultures―did you know there were so many ways to cook _meat_?” Law chuckles, shaking his head. “I want to see it all. The lands they say are mostly uninhabitable. The far-off islands. To go where people have never been sounds like a fantastic adventure, doesn’t it?”

Law smiles. “Yeah, Luffy. It does.”

“You could come with us, if you wanted.”

There’s a pause where Law mulls it over, then hums. “No. I want to stay on the continent for a while, make sure things go in the right direction when this is all said and done if I make it out.”

“ _When_.”

Law rolls his eyes. “ _When_ I make it out. Besides, I’d hate having you for a captain. You’re too unpredictable.”

Luffy snickers. “That’s part of my charm.”

“Not interested.”

Luffy laughs again, flopping down and letting his messy curls fall on Law’s ragged coat sleeve. “Be your own captain, then. Every time we passed each other on the ocean, we could arrange to meet up.”

“Once you get out on the open sea, everything’s up to chance,” Law says.

“That’ll just make it even more special when we get to see each other, then,” Luffy says, lazily throwing his leg over Law’s like he’s claiming territory.

Law glances over at Luffy with half-amused disdain. “You’re the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met.”

Luffy proudly juts out his chin. “Good.”

* * *

The day they’re set to storm the castle, Zoro runs into their tent covered in blood. “Before you panic, it’s not mine,” he assures Hack and Law, casually stabbing a screaming man running up behind him. “Change of plans―we storm the place now, before all of our supplies get raided. They found out where we were hiding and decided to make the first move.”

Law clicks his tongue. He had known that killing Diamante and Vergo would incite Doflamingo’s rage, but he’d believed that they would have had more time. There’s just not enough of it, and Zoro’s right. “Alright. All hands move out,” he shouts to anyone who can hear. “We have to break into the manor.”

Before Law can start donning all of his gear, Rayleigh grabs his wrist. “Can you maintain a calm head about this?” The older man has been a stalwart aide during such a tumultuous time, and Law certainly understands why he’s asking. From the corner of the room, Sanji looks pretty damn concerned about the feral look in Law’s eyes as well. “The men need you to. If you lose your composure in that manor, everything falls to shit.”

Law slowly sucks in a breath. “I honestly don’t know. But I have to try.”

Rayleigh’s lips quirk up. “Remember that. That attitude will keep you and your fellow soldiers alive.”

Their core team begins the forced entry, using axes and clubs to break the hinges on the large doors. This place is still so hauntingly familiar, like he never left. It’s eerie.

“It’s a trap,” Sanji mutters. “It’s too quiet.”

“Yeah,” Law says, “No shit. We all noticed.”

A spray of cannon fire causes the wall to collapse, leading Zoro, Law, and Sanji to run away and instruct their fellows to get out from any place that has a ceiling. Between the loud bursts, Law sees the half-deranged Doflamingo and his spotless entourage decked out to the nines. Arranged neatly, like little dolls, Baby 5, Buffalo, and a horde of other young adults in full regalia await them, circling them like sharks in the water.

“Hello, Law,” Doflamingo greets him, long legs stretching for what feels like miles as Law looks up the hill to a separate wing of the manor and up at his old master, scowling heatedly. “I believe you have something that belongs to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, as always. please be safe and love one another. hope to finish this up within a week or two! ♡♡♡
> 
> ✧tumblr: **[@quillifer](https://quillifer.tumblr.com/)**  
>  ✧twitter: **[@quillifer](https://twitter.com/quillifer)**


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